THE  GUARDIAN, 


Diversion. 


FRANCIS  L.  VINTON. 


NEW  YORK: 

SUTTON,    BOWNE    &    Co.,    23    LIBERTY    STREET, 

1869. 


"  THE  ALDINE  PRESS,"— Suthm,  Bowne  <k  O.,  23  Liberty  Street,  N.  Y. 


DEDICATION 


.  Vinton. 


Non,  ce  n'est  pas  par  la  beaute 
Que  cet  hommage  est  digne  de  toi ; 
Ah  plut  aux  muses  qu'il  cut  le  droit 

De  t'etre  dedie : 

Mais  c'est  le  coeur  qui  1'inspirait ; 
Et  meme  a  la  seance  des  Dieux, 
Au  coeur  qui  offre  de  son  mieux 
Beaucoup  est  pardonne. 


OVERTURE. 


OVERTURE. 


/^\NCE  for  my  sins,  which  never  seem  to  mend, 

My  leech  prescribed  the  Tropics,  and  I  went ; 
One  cheerless  bore  came  down  to  see  me  wend, 

And  every  man  to  whom  I  ow'd  a  cent ; 
They  laughed  and  said,  "  Good-bye  my  dearest  friend, 

I  hope  you  wont  meet  any  accident. 
Your  ship  looks  leaky,  and  the  season's  late, 
But  one  drowned  bachelor  is  nothing  to  the  State." 


II. 


"  What !  you  don't  think  ?  "    "  Oh  no  !  she  may  be  tight, 
Although  her  seams — Well,  have  a  jolly  time  ; 

My  word  !    I  feel  myself,  like  taking  flight, 
To  spend  the  winter  in  a  warmer  clime, 

But  I've  no  chance  to  play  the  sybarite : 
By  George  sir,  now-a-days  to  make  a  dime, 

A  gentleman  must  labor  like  a  beaver ; 

Well,  well  adieu,  don't  go  and  catch  the  yellow  fever." 

9 


III. 


Now  I'm  a  northern  man,  and  proud  to  say 
I've  always  eaten  good  bread  and  fresh  meat, 

Nay  more,  how  often  in  a  simple  way, 
Meeting  a  hungry  friend  upon  the  street, 

Have  I  not  dined  on  Bisque  and  Verzenay ! 
Besides,  I  always  kept  my  person  neat 

And  never  dreamed  what  microscopic  fauna, 

The  sun  engenders  in  an  equatorial  corner. 


IV. 


Arrived,  however,  in  the  torrid  zone, 

I  underwent  a  total  change  of  table — 
Beef  will  not  keep,  and  mutton  is  not  known  ; 

Moreover,  there,  it  is  no  poet's  fable, 
"  That  when  alone  one  is  the  least  alone," 

For  night  is  all  one  tipulary  Babel, 
Whose  legions  flock,  exceptionably  frantic, 
Just  at  that  nature's  hour  which  ought  to  be  romantic. 


V. 


As  for  the  Moon,  'tis  not  so  very  splendid — 

I've  seen  a  better  often  in  Lucia. 
If  Humboldt  saw  the  planets  as  I  then  did, 

His  "  Cosmos  "  must  be  somewhat  insincere ; 
I  did  believe,  until  my  views  extended, 

That  our's  was  a  tame  portion  of  the  sphere, 
But  now  I  think  these  latitudes  will  answer  ; 
There  is  no  first-class  life  'twixt  Capricorn  and  Cancer. 

10 


VI. 


The  scenery  is  not  the  kind  to  wear, 
'Tis  too  monotonous  for  eyes  like  mine ; 

I  hate  an  everlasting  verdant  glare, 

Not  shining  nobly  like  the  northern  pine  ; 

Where  is  the  winter  with  his  tonic  air 

That  makes  the  blood  as  warm  and  strong  as  wine, 

Where  snow  robed  nature,  pure  and  lovely  blonde, 

The  spring  of  promise,  and  the  summer  doubly  fond  ? 


VII. 


The  land  is  fertile,  it  will  bring  forth  weeds 
High  as  your  head  before  you've  hoed  an  acre, 

But  yet  no  later  than  you  plant  good  seeds 

Down  comes  a  rainstorm,  like  an  ocean  breaker, 

And  what  that  leaves,  some  worm  or  insect  greeds  ; 
But  there's  good  farming  for  an  undertaker, 

For  what  with  fevers,  choleras,  and  snakes, 

Nature  does  bless  the  ground  which  that  sad  planter  breaks. 


VIII. 


Yes,  I  detest  the  very  name  of  tropic, 

And  with  good  reason  ;  but  you  ask  me  why, 

If  that  be  so,  I  introduce  the  topic  ; 

That,  bless  you,  I'll  explain,  and  not  half  try. 

Deem  me  not  cynical  nor  misanthropic, 
But  I've  a  bit  of  scandal,  slightly  high 

From  too  long  keeping,  all  about  that  region— 

Not  so  strong  flavored  though,  as  some  of  the  Norwegian. 

ii 


IX. 


I  found  a  friend,  as  casual  friends  are  found, 
(As  good  ones  may  be,  too,  in  any  place,) 

To  whom  with  some  affection  I  grew  bound  ; 
Not  for  an  empty  charm  of  form  or  face, 

Nor  that  regalias  and  sherry  sound, 

Supply  a  host  with  more  than  usual  grace, 

But  that  he  had  a  pleasing  mental  fashion, 

And  also  won  the  heart  through  masculine  compassion. 


X. 


For  in  his  youth  my  friend  was  crossed  in  love, 
Such  are  the  ripest,  sweetest,  souls  in  nature. 

These  do  combine  the  serpent  and  the  dove, 
And  ought  to  have  a  special  nomenclature ; 

They  are  not  angels,  yet  they  rise  above 

Our  weaknesses,  and  passion's  legislature  — 

They  stand  apart,  or  stand  in  two  conditions, 

Like  Jane  of  Arc,  or  Rome,  or  soft-sexed  Politicians. 


XI. 


Women  confide  in  them,  and  so  do  men, 

And  that's  the  way  they  get  to  be  so  knowing, 

They  are  a  type  to  study  now  and  then  ; 

Like  the  cut  balsam,  healed  by  its  own  flowing, 

They  hide  their  wounds  in  amber  from  the  ken, 
And  by  degrees  their  agony  outgrowing, 

They  wax  in  portly  vigor  none  the  worse 

For  bearing  singly  blest,  their  portion  of  earth's  curse. 

12 


XII. 


My  friend  once  told  me  this  forthcoming  story, 
I  heard,  remembered,  put  it  into  rhyme, 

Then  looked  it  through  and  took  an  inventory 
Of  all  the  parts  that  seemed  to  me  sublime, 

Those  I  cut  out,  and  banished,  con  dolore  ; 
Ah  !  'twas  an  expiation  for  my  crime, 

Who  like  the  rhymer  knows  the  pang  of  duty, 

When  he  must  put  the  knife  to  his  convicted  beauty  ? 


XIII. 

We  sat  together  smoking  our  Havanas, 

One  pleasant  eve,  and  I,  for  lack  of  thought, 

Seeing  some  blacks,  in  white  and  pied  bandanas, 
Weltering  in  rays,  the  last  the  landscape  caught, 

Said,  "  Friend,  this  is  a  country  of  odd  manners, 
A  feudal  place  where  slaves  are  sold  and  bought, 

A  focus  of  development  and  blight, 

Fertile  in  tragedies  that  never  see  the  light." 


XIV. 


"  Tell  me  a  story.     See  the  night  draws  nigh, 

The  stars  commence  to  twinkle  through  the  blue, 
The  shades  have  lengthened  to  infinity, 

*  The  Heavens  are  telling/  and  'tis  time  for  you  ; 
This  purple  hour  is  romance  to  the  eye, 

Nature  is  in  imagination's  hue, 
Kindle  your  puro  with  this  cedar  blaze, 

Then  fire  your  legend  with  the  '  light  of  other  days.' 
u 


XV. 


"  I  will,"  he  said,  "  My  drama  is  all  made, 
And  yonder  ruin,  branded  on  the  sky, 

Which  blots  the  evening  with  disastrous  shade, 
Still  marks  the  limits  where  my  scene  shall  lie  ; 

How  fair  was  then  that  broken  down  arcade, 
How  strong  those  walls  which  now  to  breezes  ply, 

How  bright  those  lawns,  with  beauty  only  wild, 

Now  all  a  wilderness  forsaken  or  defiled. 


XVI. 

When  that  black  wreck  had  color,  life  and  form, 
There,  dwell  three  spirits,  loveliest  of  our  land  ; 

Three  women,  brilliant,  generous  and  warm, 
All  born  by  genius  to  a  world's  command  : 

Yet  ruling  lightly  o'er  the  social  swarm, 

They  lived  for  art,  with  married  heart  and  hand, 

And  skilled  in  ways  of  illustrating  thought, 

Knew  how  to  fix  each  form  that  subtle  fancy  caught. 


XVII. 

Two  were  own  sisters — In  their  nobler  veins, 
The  tide  was  our  immortal  Saxon  stream  ; 

The  third  was  fair,  but  shared  a  blood  that  stains, 
Though  so  diffused  within  the  finer  gleam, 

That  bright  as  air  when  not  a  cloud  remains, 
No  pallor  of  a  vapor  stricken  beam, 

Nor  lurid  crimson  tinged  her  candid  face — 

Her  heart  alone  accused  the  wildness  of  her  race. 


XVIII. 

Born  of  a  slave,  but  exquisitely  fair, 

Her  beauty  so  enfranchised  her  from  bond, 

That  she  was  bred  to  freedom  unaware, 

And  none  remembered,  and  none  looked  beyond : 

The  easy  consorts  never  deigned  to  care, 

The  course  was  common  and  the  girl  was  blonde, 

And  one  quick  season  when  the  spouses  died, 

Left  her  co-heiress  in  her  sisters'  name  and  pride. 


XIX. 


One  only  knew,  at  least  remembered  yet, 
The  stigma  that  she  innocently  bore — 

A  Carib  nurse,  upon  whose  breast  of  jet 
The  girls  were  laid  (as  custom  was  of  yore.) 

She  fed  them  all,  the  elder  and  cadette, 

Yet  scorned  the  last,  whose  genius  more  and  more 

Usurped  the  glory  only  fitly  worn 

By  those  patrician  free — first  to  the  manor  born. 


XX. 


Estates  of  worth,  of  cocoa,  coffee,  cane, 

And  mills,  and  slaves,  reverted  to  the  three, 

Far  as  the  eye  could  range,  o'er  hill  and  plain, 
The  earth  was  theirs  to  use  as  well  as  see  ; 

But  they  asked  not,  accustomed  so  to  reign, 

How  vast  the  breadth  of  their  domain  might  be  ; 

This  to  their  Guardian's  share  they  set  apart, 

And  made  their  only  care,  Love,  Liberty,  and  Art. 

15 


XXI. 


This  Guardian  was  a  various  minded  man, 

Who  roamed  the  world  and  left  his  wards  to  grow, 

His  visits  ceased  as  soon  as  they  began, 
And  short  accounts  were  all  he  deigned  to  know  ; 

But  still  they  prospered  on  that  simple  plan, 
And  now  he  neither  seemed  to  come  or  go. 

Thus  years  had  passed  since  last  he  left  his  charge, 

Three  blushing  buds  of  life  on  fortune's  garden  marge. 


XXII. 

Meanwhile  they  bloomed  fair  women,  and  in  time 
Where'er  they  moved  they  magnetized  the  way  ; 

Courtly,  but  with  indifference  sublime, 

They  saw  the  world  impassioned  homage  pay. 

They  gave  their  balls,  made  music,  sketch  and  rhyme, 
Refused  a  lover,  gained  a  friend  each  day, 

And  ever  amiable,  by  all  adored, 

They  made  our  golden  age  no  more  to  be  restored. 


XXIII. 

The  moon  shines  cold  on  yonder  ruined  walls, 

The  glossy  lizard,  bright  eyed  and  alert, 
Shoots  through  the  fissures,  and  the  beetle  crawls 

With  stupid  instinct  through  decay  and  dirt ; 
And  humid  lichens  creep  along  the  halls 

Where  flowers  were  spread,  which  beauty's  flying  skirt 
Swept  in  the  dance,  too  volatile  to  bruise, 
But  eddying  gusty  perfumes  from  their  cells  recluse. 

16 


XXIV. 

A  night  like  this  those  windows  high  and  low, 
Had  jetted  light  more  warm  than  that  pale  beam, 

Sweet  talk  had  wafted  on  the  zephyr's  flow, 
And  music  in  its  exquisite  extreme  ; 

There,  gentle  guests  had  wandered  to  and  fro, 
Flitting  to  shades  like  figures  of  a  dream, 

And  many  an  ear  with  fond  acuteness  heard 

The  eolian  breath  of  love  thrill  each  melodious  word. 


XXV. 

Now,  silence  is  the  music  of  the  dead, 

No  perfumes  from  their  desert  gardens  float, 

Their  guests  are  ghosts,  their  latest  dance  is  led  ; 
No  more  those  lips  the  name  of  love  may  quote 

On  whose  last  sigh,  through  flame  and  blood  it  fled 
Their  life's  expression  and  their  requiem  note  ; 

They  perished  as  they  lived,  in  one  fate  blent, 

And  yon  dim  ruin  stands  their  only  monument. 


CANTO  I, 


THE  GUARDIAN. 


CANTO  I. 


I. 


A  LONE,  at  midnight,  by  a  blazing  lamp 

The  Guardian  read,  then  thrust  the  book  away, 
And  leaned  upon  his  hand  a  face,  whose  stamp 

Was  worthy  of  a  Vinci  to  portray — 
Though,  if  the  lines  of  closet  or  of  camp 

Were  deepest  marked,  could  Vinci  hardly  say ; 
Now,  saddest  doubt  drooped  on  his  eyelids  pale, 
Now,  impulse  seemed  to  flash  and  lighten  through  the  vail. 


II. 


He  rose,  and  gazed  out  on  the  silent  night  ; 

The  dappled  moon  shot  on  the  distant  wave, 
And  dainty  stars  with  vacillating  light, 

And  planets  with  their  radiance  clear  and  grave — 
Unsullied  orbs,  appearing  to  the  sight 

And  shining  equally  on  lord  and  slave 
There  cloudless  moved,  and  graced  the  awful  force 
Which  urged theirbeauteous  beamsand  unrelaxing course. 

21 


III. 


The  sea  was  mute,  nought  but  the  nightly  breeze 
Gliding  to  ocean  from  the  cooling  land 

Rippled  the  air,  and  whispered  to  the  trees  ; 
The  Orange  answered,  and  the  light  cane  wand, 

The  palm  leaves  rustled  in  subdued  degrees, 
And  spiral  vines,  through  every  tendril  fanned, 

Responded  with  a  myriad  sighs,  whose  thrill 

Made  silence  audible  and  yet  more  sweetly  still. 


IV. 


"  'Tis  not  the  night,"  he  said,  "  to  still  my  heart, 
The  stars  he?e  do  not  scintillate,  they  burn  ; 

Why,  when  my  youth  is  turning  to  depart, 
How,  from  the  past  that  ash  replenished  urn, 

Have  I  preserved  such  embers  quick  to  start ; 
Can  it  be  love  that  menaces  return, 

And  can  I  dare  to  welcome  to  my  breast 

At  my  dry  age  this  known,  incendiary  guest  ? " 


V. 

And  yet  no  sooner  on  this  pent  up  shore, 

A  world-wide  traveler  and  grey  in  life, 
Than  I  behold  what  I  ne'er  saw  before, 

The  woman  I  desire  to  make  my  wife  ; 
And  then,  as  if  my  fate  must  furnish  more, 

To  set  my  reason  and  my  heart  at  strife, 
She  proves  my  ward,  almost  a  babe  I've  known, 
Where  are  the  schools  to-day,  or  faith,  has  time  so  flown  ? 

22 


VI. 


Are  not  these  loves  Cassandre,  at  my  age, 

Sure  signs  of  weakness,  surer  marks  for  scorn  ? 

Not  all  perhaps — nay,  love  becomes  a  sage, 
Still  on  the  oak  the  twining  vine  is  borne 

While  his  last  limbs  can  scarce  the  storm  engage ; 
Besides,  the  suit  is  not  entirely  worn, 

I've  lived  in  motley  for  so  long  a  part, 

I  sure  can  pass  for  new,  the  costume  of  my  heart. 


VII. 


My  title  though  must  travesty  my  years, 
I  am  a  guardian,  though  a  careless  one, 

A  name  more  apt  to  rouse  a  maiden's  fears, 
Or  wake  the  wit  of  some  good  neighbor's  son, 

Than  to  evoke  an  image  that  endears 
And  win  my  battle  ere  it  is  begun  ; 

Well,  up  on  fate,  and  down  with  borrowed  sorrow, 

I'll  pen  a  proper  note  and  dine  with  them  to-morrow. 


VIII. 

And  time  it  is. — To  whom  is  this  addressed 
This  owl-like  wisdom  ?     Only  to  the  moon, 

And  she,  too  bright  with  mortal  to  contest, 

Goes  passing  voiceless  from  night's  silver  noon, 

And  droops  with  impulse  to  the  hollow  west ; 
The  quill,  'tis  written,  not  a  stroke  too  soon, 

For  though  the  flame  may  scorch,  the  light  betray, 

I  must  approach  the  blaze  which  shows  the  only  way. 

23 


IX. 


Phoebus  advancing  on  the  mountain  tops 
Still  touched  the  valleys  with  uncertain  aim, 

Still  the  magnolia,  with  diamond  drops, 
Was  faceted  when  Carolina  came  ; 

Now,  by  the  lake,  the  ranging  maiden  stops, 
Now  plucks  a  myrtle,  rends  the  pearly  frame, 

And  speeds  the  leaflets,  singing  while  they  fall, 

The  rondo  light — "  He  loves,  with  passion,  not  at  all." 


X. 


"What !  stripping  myrtles,"  said  her  sister's  voice. 

"  Look  at  my  fate  "  said  Caroline,  "  and  fear. 
Why  do  these  bad  ones  always  mark  my  choice  ? " 

"  They  only  prove  that  you  are  wanted  here, 
And  were  I  you,"  said  Anna,  "  I'd  rejoice ; 

But  breakfast  waits  your  deigning  to  appear, 
Come,  household  discipline  is  what  you  need, 
And  learn  that  I  have  turned  reformer  in  that  creed." 


XI. 


"  Quite  at  your  service  Anna,  I  admire 

With  glance  prophetic  the  reforms  you'll  make, 

For  one  beginning  let  us  all  conspire, 

And  rise  at  dawn  to  walk  around  the  lake  ; 

So  brightest  eyes  shall  we  three  girls  acquire" — 
"  Oh  !  love,"  said  Anna,  "  I  could  never  wake, 

I  am  the  stillest  just  when  night  is  gone, 

And  prize  above  all  dreams  those  vivid  ones  of  dawn." 

24 


XII. 


"  Then  make  our  board  the  victim  of  reform, 

Coffee  is  nervous,  as  all  doctors  know, 
Except  our  own  who  dreads  the  panic  storm 

That  you  would  raise  if  he  should  call  it  so  ; 
And  meat  is  worse  because  it  makes  you  warm, 

Now  roots,  and  dew,  would  make  the  pure  blood  flow." 
"  Nay,  that's  too  radical  for  me  to  venture, 
Retrench  in  something  else — I  can't  resign  the  trencher." 


XIII. 


"What  shall  it  be  then— Dress  ?"  "Ah  !  there's  the  place, 
'Tis  our  great  weakness,  we're  too  fond  of  dress  ; 

Suppose  we  sell  the  moiety  of  our  lace, 
And  build  the  government  a  ship  express  ; 

The  thought  is  grand,  the  ship  our  names  will  grace, 
And  we  be  famous,  yet  content  no  less." 

"  Not  yet "  said  Anne,  "  that's  only  fair  for  you, 

Your  charms  demand  no  aid,  my  less  attractions  do." 


XIV. 

"  In  short  there's  nothing  I  desire  to  change  ; 

Habit  is  ten  times  nature  thorough  bred, 
So  wet  thy  feet,  the  dripping  herbage  range, 

And  be  my  morning  glory  comforted." 
"  My  bosom  full  of  posies  sweet  and  strange, 

On  thine,  for  that  sweet  word  my  hand  will  shed, 
Accept  my  spoil  delightful  heart  and  mind, 
And  when  I  love  thee  not,  then  say  my  soul  is  blind. 

25 


XV. 


So  turning  home  the  white  robed  maidens  swept, 
And  reached  a  window  open  to  the  ground, 

Through  cloven  foam  of  blossoms  in  they  stepped, 
And  at  a  spirit  flame  their  sister  found. 

"  A  genius  making  coffee,  I  accept," 
Cried  Carolina, — Dian  turned  around, 

She  smiled,  she  stretched  her  arms  with  welcome  sweet, 

And  all  three  sprang  to  blend  like  dew-drops  when  they  meet. 


XVI. 

"  What  kisses  sweet  you  give,  like  morning  air, 
You  two  tea  ruses  ;  earlier  must  I  rise, 

For  time  is  coming  when  I  should  beware, 
Being  the  eldest,  lest  to  my  surprise, 

My  cycles  greet  me  soon  with  silver  hair, 
And  venerable  glasses  on  dim  eyes, 

A  premature  decay  for  want  of  will 

To  ope  at  dewy  dawn  and  trail  on  yonder  hill." 


XVII. 

"  Fear  not  Diana,"  Carolina  said, 

"  You  gain  in  fairness  what  you  lose  in  bloom, 
And  I  shall  judge  that  love  himself  is  dead, 

When  you  please  not."     "  Ah  !  how  can  you  presume 
With  such  a  speech  to  turn  my  feeble  head 

You  flatterer,  your  Dante  tells  your  doom, 
And  if  I  wish  your  willing  words  were  true, 
'Tis  only  traitor  for  the  sake  of  saving  you." 

26 


XVIII. 

"  But  I  forget,  here  are  your  letters  all, 
To  Anne,  the  rose  ;  to  Caroline,  the  blue  : 

I  trust  in  hope  no  evil  will  befall 

From  all  these  painted,  scented,  billets-doux." 

"  No  more  than  from  that  lemon-colored  scrawl," 
Said  Anna,  "  which  I  see  addressed  to  you, 

Nay  less,  for  yellow  if  I  know  the  fashion, 

Means  jealousy,  despair,  or  some  such  gothic  passion." 


XIX. 


"  Tis  business,  doubtless,  our  attorney  writes, 
His  style  is  florid  ;  but  see  this  I  pray, 

'Tis  cool  and  classic,  yet  the  hand  invites — 
The  island  post !     What  can  this  letter  say? 

My  poor  heart  flutters  with  forewarned  delights, 
This  does  arouse  me  some  unusual  way, 

Oh !  it  attracts,  I'm  curious  I  vow, 

Though  I  am  seldom  that,  you  know,  and  must  allow." 


XX. 

"  Tis  from  our  Guardian,  short  and  strangely  sweet, 

He  cometh  homeward,  and  he  condescends 
To  write,  advising  us  of  that  great  feat. 

What  gale  this  time  that  mossy  cocoa  bends  ? 
He  asks  an  hour  his  lovely  wards  to  greet ; 

Besides,  some  northern  grouse  in  ice  he  sends." 
"  Ask  him  to  dine  for  that,  of  course  I  would, 

The  dear  old  Phoenix,  if  his  frozen  grouse  is  good.' 
27 


XXI. 

"  Who  is  our  Guardian,  may  I  beg  to  know  ?  " 
Said  Carolina. — "  Some  Cosmopolite 

With  whom  our  father  years  and  years  ago 
Formed  an  acquaintance,  probably  by  night ; 

I've  heard  say  he  was  very  handsome,  though, 
That  must  have  been  before  you  saw  the  light, 

For  once  I  viewed  him,  ages  past,  and  then 

He  looked  the  coldest,  oldest,  ugliest  of  men. 


XXII. 

Yet  he's  obliging  as  you  feel  and  see, 

Quite  generous  enough  though  not  too  fond, 

He  thinks  we're  children  yet,  and  that  may  be, 
Little  I  care  to  step  that  age  beyond  ; 

He  travels  much  and,  also,  let  me  see, 

Draws,  or  writes  music,  which,  I  wont  respond  ; 

Then  he's  a  chemist,  and  once  had  a  patent, 

For  utilizing  something  that  was  lost  or  latent." 


XXIII. 

"  Upon  my  word  the  subject  grows  profound," 

Said  Carolina,  "let  me  then  elope, 
Last  night  I  dreamed  a  world  of  sweetest  sound, 

The  words  are  gone,  the  motive  lives  in  hope, 
Which  I  may  grasp,  though  like  Prometheus  bound 

I  fear  my  heart  will  feel  the  falcon  grope  ; 
But  ah  !  those  strains,  the  fantasies  of  night, 
Like  all  the  classic  ghosts  do  fade  with  morning's  light." 

28 


XXIV. 

So  to  the  organ  Carolina  passed, 

And  made  the  keys  with  new  accords  vibrate. 
"  Is  that  your  dream,"  said  Anna,  "did  it  last  ?  " 

"All  night  my  love  ! "  "  Well,  then  you  supped  too  late, 
There's  cream  and  mangoes  in  that  minor  blast, 

And  that  diminished  ninth  was  on  your  plate  ; 
It  lacks  the  gastric,  sister,  one  advice, 
Prepare  your  future  dreams  on  something  not  so  nice." 


XXV. 

"  What  speechless  !  then  will  I  compose,  to-day, 
I  have  a  pencil  and  a  dream  I  think, 

Begin  my  muse  thy  heavy  wings  to  sway ; 
There  now  she  lifts  them,  poises  on  the  brink, 

There  now  she  rises,  now  she  floats  away, 
Hail  muse  !  obedient  to  thy  slightest  wink 

I  follow  after,  going,  gone, — I  fly  ; 

Adieu  Diana,  Caroline  my  dove,  good  bye." 


XXVI. 

"  To-day,"  Diana  said,  "  I  bear  the  care, 
I  keep  the  house,  to  you  the  arts  I  leave, 

But  I  should  be  the  last  of  all  to  spare, 

And  more  than  all,  must  praise  and  smiles  receive, 

For  where  were  art,  and  all  your  passion  where  ? 
If  dinner  followed  not  upon  the  eve, 

Thin  dreams  and  pageants,  unsubstantial  tricks, 

For  sprites  which  must  consume  a  turtle  steak  at  six." 

29 


XXVII. 

"  In  that  remark  materialism  lurks  ; 

Sister,  your  faith  is  very  bad  indeed, 
'Tis  sense  religion,  only  fit  for  Turks  ; 

But  if  you  do  direct  the  house,  take  heed, 
And  fail  not  in  your  multifarious  works 

To  cool  your  wines  ;  Horace  they  say  you  read, 
And  other  Romans,  if  you  do,  at  times, 
You  know  that  tepid  vintages  are  crimson  crimes." 


XXVIII. 

'Twas  late,  and  low  the  vesper  sunlight  gleamed, 
When  Dian  sought  again  the  studio ; 

Full  dressed  she  came,  her  eyes  enkindled  beamed, 
Her  soft  blush  mirrored  back  the  evening's  glow, 

Along  her  opal  neck  her  dark  locks  streamed, 
And  radiant  diamonds  caught  the  flood  below, 

A  glossy  corsage  laced  her  pliant  side, 

And  into  satin  sheaves  her  rustling  drapery  plied. 


XXIX. 

No  less  equipped  the  other  sisters  came, 

Whose  glances  splendor  left  their  jewels  none, 

Their  haughty  grace  made  all  adornment  tame, 
And  in  their  gems  they  seemed  to  shine  alone  ; 

So  Heaven's  own  light  eclipses  every  flame, 
And  leaves  no  illustration  but  its  own  ; 

Still  these  warm  natures  loved  their  rich  attire, 

And  all  those  fuel  arts  which  served  their  innate  fire. 

30 


XXX. 

"  My  dear  Diana,  you  are  sweetly  dressed," 
Said  Carolina,  "  turn  the  other  way." 

"  No,"  said  Diana,  "  you  I  think  look  best, 
You  seem  accoutred  for  an  action."     "  Nay, 

I  trust  your  eyes,  to  spoil  our  Guardian's  rest, 
He  is  you  know  a  little  bit  roue, 

I  am  too  young,  and  Anna  is  too  cross, 

To  thee  this  enterprise,  its  profit  and  its  loss." 


XXXI. 

"  Be  not  so  sure,"  said  Anna,  "if  I  cared, 

You'd  know  for  once  how  charming  I  can  be, 

And  see  me  with  such  mignonne  airs  prepared 
That  Scipio's  self  had  cast  two  looks  at  me  ; 

But  this  philosopher  may  go  unsnared, 
I  yield  him  to  the  elder  of  the  three  ; 

Let  Dian  have  him,  I  shall  never  wince, 

She's  waited  long  enough,  and  he's  an  ancient  prince. 


XXXII. 

"  Alas  !  your  generosity  I  fear 

Will  bear  no  fruit,"  Diana  said,  "  the  guest, 
The  fated  guest  comes  not ;  he  should  be  here, 

Tis  long  past  six,  that  I  should  be  so  dressed 
Yet  lose  my  first,  my  only  cavalier." 

"  Cheer  up,"  said  Carolina,  "  in  the  west 
I  do  discern  a  knight  come  pricking  through, 
Though  not  so  headlong  as  a  hungry  knight  should  do. 


XXXIII. 

"And  then  he  rides,  methinks,  with  youthful  grace, 
And  seems  to  study  while  he  rides,  a  flower  ; 

Surely  'tis  not  the  venerable  face 

We  had  expected  at  this  awful  hour." 

"  It  is  a  poet,  may  be,  in  your  chase," 
Diana  said,  "  he  seeks  his  lady's  bower." 

"  Lost  poet  then,  so  'tis  a  tender  one, 

I'll  eat  it,  lines  and  all,  if  you  will  have  it  done." 


XXXIV. 

The  guest  dismounted,  passed  the  lattice  door, 
Through  which  the  jasmines  wafted  as  he  went 

And  inward  led,  the  ladies  stood  before  ; 
One  instant  stopping,  courteously  he  bent, 

Then  would  have  spoken,  but  his  lips  forbore, 
For  Carolina's  eyes  met  his,  intent, 

Whose  flash  upon  his  vision  sprang  and  hung, 

And  doubly  moved  the  heart,  but  paralyzed  the  tongue. 


XXXV. 

Emotions  pass. — Our  sweetest  soonest  go  ; 

The  Guardian  smiled,  and  with  a  brilliant  air 
Excused  himself  for  being  old  and  slow. 

But  Dian  saw  those  sudden  looks  compare, 
And  though  disdaining  to  confess  a  blow, 

Her  brow  assembled  all  its  lines  of  care  ; 
'Twas  scarcely  jealousy  of  love  unknown, 
Only  a  vague  built  thought,  struck  once  and  overthrown. 

32 


XXXVI. 

Still  Dian,  like  the  rest  of  us,  was  forced 
To  hide  her  feeling,  and  disguise  her  fear ; 

Meanwhile  the  facile  conversation  coursed 
From  grave  to  gay,  from  lively  to  severe, 

The  war,  the  opera,  the  wed,  divorced, 

The  late  great  rains,  the  wretched  crops,  and — here 

The  major-domo  glided  in  and  said 

In  reverential  tone — "  The  dinner,  Miss,  is  spread." 


XXXVII. 

In  perfect  style,  I  scarcely  need  assert, 
This  unique  dinner  was  set  forth  and  laid, 

Not  the  most  bilious  critic  malapert, 
Or  pinguid  epicure,  could  this  upbraid, 

Nor  that  condemn  with  praises  too  inert ; 
Bounty  and  elegance  at  once  displayed, 

Combined  at  once  the  carnal  and  aesthetic, 

And  made  the  soul  and  senses  mutually  magnetic. 


XXXVIII. 

With  silver,  gold,  and  beaming  crystal  girt, 

The  table  shone  ;  and  when  each  blooming  maid 

Sat  to  the  board,  and  spread  her  ample  skirt, 
The  angels  in  their  human  masquerade, 

No  fairer  lighted  on  our  sphere  of  dirt, 

When  like  the  Pagan  Gods  to  earth  they  strayed, 

And  shared  urbanely  in  the  country  dinner, 

Of  some  Deucalion,  Lot,  or  other  ancient  sinner. 

33 


XXXIX. 

I'd  give  the  carte,  but  moderation  stays, 
Time  presses  now  for  more  important  things, 

And  I  dismiss  the  dinner  with  a  phrase, 

Though  often  over  soups  and  chicken  wings 

We  act  a  scene  remembered  all  our  days  ; 

Sweet  memories  are  like  the  grape  vine's  rings— 

They  cling  to  lightest  frames,  and  bring  forth  fruits 

So  long  as  one  last  smile,  one  tear  drop,  feeds  the  roots. 


XL. 


The  feast  was  o'er,  and  starlight  now  declared  ; 

Then  all  moved  gaily  to  the  garden  stair, 
Where,  by  night  breezes  delicately  aired, 

They  quaffed  their  coffee  redolent  and  rare  ; 
Around  came  perfumes  by  the  flowers  spared, 

Which  touched  the  least  art  sense,  and  yet  were  there, 
Sent  by  each  great  and  little  leaf  unfurled, 
To  swell  in  their  small  way  the  beauty  of  the  world. 


XLI. 

This  fragrance  dense,  and  fit  to  be  observed, 
Induced  the  Guardian,  in  a  jesting  way, 

To  say  that  noses,  organs  highly  nerved, 
Were  not  regarded  for  what  in  them  lay  ; 

They  passed  for  fine  as  being  straight,  or  curved, 
Not  for  the  fine  perceptions  they  convey  ; 

Whereas,  this  smelling  was  an  art  emotion 

Which  might  develop  to  a  talent  by  devotion. 

34 


XLII. 

"  That  may  be  jest,"  said  Caroline,  "  but  just- 
A  floweret's  breath  to  me  is  ne'er  so  light 

But  it  inspires  emotion  through  my  dust ; 
Come,  I'll  arise  and  spread  a  little  flight, 

Now  chrysalis  of  fancy  rend  thy  crust, 
Burst  the  cocoon  of  reticence  my  sprite, 

And  you  two  critics  cripple  not  my  wing  ; 

My  unarmed  butterfly  cannot  return  a  sting." 


XLIII. 

"  Inhale  the  proud  magnolia,  and  you  feel 
Romantic  daring,  vapor  in  the  brain  ; 

Avoid  the  tuberose,  for  it  will  unseal 

A  flood  of  love,  of  passion,  and  sweet  pain  ; 

But  the  sad  violet's  breath  how  it  can  steal 
Clear  to  the  soul,  and  like  a  purest  vein 

Of  heavenly  influence  refresh  the  heart, 

Making  good  impulses,  and  stainless  motives  start." 


XLIV. 

"  Those  nestling  plants  which  bosom  on  the  earth, 
Give  mother  perfumes  lulling  life's  unrest  ; 

Those  potent  cups  which  spring  from  stems  of  girth 
Pour  out  the  wildness  of  their  haughty  crest ; 

The  lightsome  bells  that  sway  in  breezy  mirth, 
Exhale  their  simple  souls  with  simple  zest, 

So  let  us  say  that  every  flower  that  grows 

Recites  its  poetry,  albeit  through  the  nose." 

35 


XLV. 

"  I  treat  you  to  this  bit  of  eloquence," 
Said  Carolina,  "  for  our  Guardian's  sake, 

His  words,  I  think,  are  ample  evidence 
That  my  extravagance  is  no  mistake  ; 

Indeed,  it  ought  to  sound  like  deepest  sense 
To  cavaliers  who  ride  but  half  awake, 

And  almost  miss  the  magic  dinner  hour 

Lost  in  the  contemplation  of  a  little  flower." 


XLVI. 

The  Guardian  smiled  :  "you  little  know,"  said  he, 
"  How  great  a  beauty  harbors  in  that  plant, 

Nay,  how  it  swells  the  fortunes  of  you  three ; 
You  have  some  acres  on  yon  mountain  slant, 

Whence  came  the  blossom,  and  where  grows  the  tree, 
And  if  my  knowledge  be  not  very  scant, 

'Tis  that  Cinchona  whose  specific  bark, 

Is  weighed  with  royal  gold  and  honored  with  its  mark." 


XLVII. 

"Is  that  all?"  said  Diana,  "nay,  I  thought 
The  bud  had  rather  been  some  graceful  form, 

With  splendid  color,  and  soft  fibre  wrought, 
A  thing  to  make  imagination  warm  ; 

But  'tis  quinine  !  with  every  bitter  fraught, 
And  my  bee  fancies  just  about  to  swarm 

And  make  poetic  honey,  dissipate  ; 

Alas  !  dear  Guardian,  I  am  sorry  you  were  late." 

36 


XLVIII. 

"  It  was  poetical  thus  far,  he  said 
'Twas  gold,  and  gold  to  poetry  can  turn, 

'Twill  buy  the  inside  of  a  poet's  head, 

Almost  the  flame  that  makes  his  language  burn ; 

While  poetry,  until  the  poet's  dead, 

Brings  hardly  gold  enough  to  gild  an  urn, 

Much  less  to  buy  that  cutlet  day  by  day, 

Which  feeds  the  ethereal  fire  commingled  in  his  clay." 


XLIX. 

"Too  bad,"  Diana  answered,  "you  must  know 
Your  wisdom  warms  me  with  an  awful  fear, 

My  future  is  dismantled  of  its  glow, 

For  I'm  the  bard  and  household  poet  here ; 

But  don't  musicians  famish,  too,  below  ? 
For  Caroline  is  master  in  that  sphere, 

And  'twere  a  consolation  to  the  scribe, 

To  know  an  equal  fate  impending  o'er  her  tribe." 


"  That  they  do  so  I  almost  know  too  well ; 

But  come,  while  music  is  the  moment's  word, 
May  I  not  ask  you  three  to  weave  the  spell : 

Yon  instruments  plead  mutely  to  be  heard, 
And  you  are  artists."     "  That  I  never  tell," 

Said  Carolina,  "  we  are  sometimes  stirred, 
But  our  supply  we  never  can  predict, 
At  best  'tis  not  severe,  and  your  demand  is  strict." 

37 


LI. 


"  Do  not  think  so,  play  anything  to  me, 
What  piece  is  that  upon  the  organ  lying  ? " 

"  Ah !  that  is  classic  in  a  high  degree, 
Born  of  the  nameless,  'tis  of  the  undying, 

For  what  more  vital  than  a  mystery  ? 

We  know  no  farther,  after  years  of  trying, 

Than  'tis  a  manuscript,  the  verse  and  score, 

And  seems  a  fugue,  or  cannon  of  the  largest  bore." 


LII. 


"  Call  it  an  oratorio,  a  prayer, 

Whatever  serious  name  you  like  the  best ; 
It  needs  four  voices,  but  to  find  them,  where  ? 

Now  if  you  read  a  bass  we're  truly  blest, 
Then  we  can  have  it  in  proportions  fair, 

We  sing  it,  but  so  crippled  and  compressed, 
Because,  alas  !  to  my  despairing  rage, 
No  heaven  born  basso  deigns  to  drop  upon  our  stage." 


LIII. 

"  Such  high  descent  I  cannot  claim,"  he  said, 
"  But  once,  I  do  recall,  I  used  to  sing, 

And  this  part  too  is  easy  to  be  read, 
I'd  like  to  try  it  more  than  anything." 

"  Enough,"  said  Caroline,  "  on  air  I  tread, 

Come  sisters  rise,  come  voice,  and  key  and  string, 

'Tis  jubilate  in  my  heart  of  hearts, 

To  play  this  lovely  piece  at  last  with  all  the  parts." 

38 


LIV. 


"  Diana  does  the  tenor  :  she's  a  girl 

The  most  available  this  isle  can  show ; 
From  preaching,  down  to  how  to  turn  a  curl, 

There's  naught  worth  knowing  that  she  does  not  know  ; 
When  once  she  shakes  her  talents  out  of  furl 

She  sails  on  any  wind  that  haps  to  blow ; 
But  join,  begin,  before  my  ringers  freeze, 
Attention  girls  and  deep  emotion  if  you  please." 


LV. 

The  keys  she  loved  now  Carolina  smote, 
The  organ  thrilled,  then  echoed  far  away, 

Until  the  harp  enlinked  the  escaping  note, 
And  softly  joying  with  persuasive  play 

Seemed  to  recall  the  truant  strains  in  rote, 

Enticing  backward  while  they  seemed  to  stray, 

Till  from  the  reeds  at  last,  and  quivering  chords 

They  sprang  in  mass,  like  larks  concerting  heaven-wards. 


LVI. 


Delicious  motives,  varying  gay  and  sad, 
Presaging  beauties,  sallied  now  and  then 

Like  early  verdure  ere  the  hills  are  clad, 

Or  vernal  buds,  which  peep  and  close  again  ; 

Still  sparkled  in  the  harp-chime  bright  and  glad, 
As  when  in  some  chance-lit  embowered  glen, 

A  brooklet  glitters  through  the  forest  tone, 

And  breaks  with  rippling  light  the  deep  un sunny  zone. 

39 


LVII. 

Anna's  soprano,  rising  on  the  strain, 

Prolonged  the  theme  the  overture  expressed ; 

So  the  sad  prophet  pleading  through  his  pain 
Prayed  for  a  people  fallen  and  distressed  ; 

Such  sighs  imploring  seemed  to  be  not  vain, 
E'en  were  they  to  immortal  ears  addressed, 

And  thus  at  last  a  race  of  music's  choice, 

Might  wake  a  slumbering  God  to  listen  to  their  voice. 


LVin. 

Then  her  contralto  Carolina  poured, 

And  wide  reproach  her  sombre  accents  flung  ; 

So,  Sinai's  mount,  or  Jordan's  river  ford, 
Heard  sternly  melodized  Adonais'  tongue  ; 

Whoever  listened  followed  where  she  soared, 

And  dreamed  that  nothing  grand  was  left  unsung  ; 

A  heart  of  rock  so  smitten  had  been  rent, 

And  buried  springs  of  faith  in  all  its  depths  unpent. 


LIX. 


The  clinging  tenor  wove  its  notes  between, 
Where'er  the  mediating  phrase  could  wind, 

It  seemed  to  seek  the  scattered  chords,  and  glean, 
And  weave  in  sheaves  their  harmonies  combined ; 

When  its  sweet  motive  came  to  intervene, 
Hope  sprang  anew,  or  sorrow  grew  resigned, 

And  constant  through  the  score,  below,  above, 

It  urged  the  tender  strains  of  sympathy  and  love. 

40 


LX. 


The  parts  so  merging  or  resurging  went 

Mingling  their  movements  with  expression  rare, 

Until  the  alto  from  its  chords  unbent, 
And  solved  relenting  on  the  sighing  air  ; 

So,  in  sweet  intervals  of  grave  consent, 

A  god  might  yield  him  to  a  prophet's  prayer, 

While  ever  like  the  syncopated  bass, 

A  distant  people  sobbed,  complained,  and  plead  for  grace. 


LXI. 

Then  in  a  tutti  rushed  an  exultation, 
Like  hope  and  certainty  and  jubilee  ; 

And  all  the  voices,  raised  to  acclamation, 
Pealed  in  one  unison  the  melody  ; 

The  singers,  flushed  with  art's  divine  elation, 
Imparted,  all,  with  utterance  loud  and  free, 

Their  fiery  spirit  to  each  ample  phrase, 

In  jocund  choruses,  and  noble  hymns  of  praise. 


LXII. 

Vivace,  presto,  as  the  end  drew  nigh, 

Their  voices  quickened,  and  their  fingers  flew, 

Till,  as  some  tangled  oak  which  waved  on  high, 
Now  struck  by  woodmen,  trembles  while  they  hew, 

Then  bends  subsiding  from  the  azure  sky, 
And  quick  accelerating  through  the  blue, 

Whirls  down  its  blending  limbs  until  they  crush, 

Prone  with  a  cadent  shock  which  makes  all  nature  hush, 


LXIII. 

So,  from  the  highest  measures  where  they  sang, 
Each  voice  and  instrument  descending  swept, 

And  on  the  tonic  simultaneous  rang, 

And  stayed — the  harps  few  lone,  sweet  chords  except, 

Whose  dying  chime  with  one  far,  fairy  clang 
Still  touched  the  ear  a  moment  and  then  slept — 

As  sleeps  an  echo  when  the  thunders  cease, 

And  leave  the  caverned  hills  to  supernatural  peace. 


LXIV. 

A  stillness  like  the  stillness  of  the  past, 

A  vision  that  no  genius  could  renew, 
A  ruined  fam  that  nothing  could  recast, 

A  flitting  joy  that  nothing  could  pursue  ; 
The  absence  of  a  thing  that  could  not  last, 

Yet  seemed  immortal  while  it  lived  and  grew, 
A  void  like  that  when  Memnon  spoke  no  more, 
Or  when  "  Great  Pan  is  dead  "  resounded  on  the  shore. 


LXV. 

Truly,  it  seemed  that  if  that  silence  broke 

A  world  of  dearest  memories  would  fall, 
But  through  the  half  oblivion  Anna  spoke  ; 

And  waking  with  a  startled  movement,  all, 
They  seemed  from  dreams  their  beings  to  revoke, 

And  sadly,  as  if  loosened  from  the  thrall 
Of  some  sweet,  anodyne  enchantment's  strain, 
Whose  blessed  gift  made  life  one  moment  free  from  pain. 

42 


LXVI. 

For  all  that  music  shed  the  slumbrous  fire 

That  soothes,  and  melts,  and  unconsuming  thrills  ; 

That  warmed  the  rhythm  of  the  marble  choir, 
Who  dreamed  and  chanted  on  Olympian  hills — 

It  knew  no  law  but  art's  refined  desire, 
And  sang  the  whole  of  passion  but  its  ills  ; 

In  short,  'twas  that  essential  lyric  flame, 

At  once  too  heavenly  and  too  human  for  a  name. 


LXVI  I. 

Said  Anna,  "  what  a  large  majestic  grace, 
Yet  fine  simplicity  pervades  this  score, 

No  finished  ornament  is  out  of  place, 
And  yet  its  unity  would  bear  no  more ; 

But  Guardian,  take  our  interest  in  this  case, 
As  Guardians  must,  this  mystery  explore, 

You  know  composers,  and  you  might  guess  him, 

Is  he  alive  on  earth,  or  with  the  seraphim  ? " 


LXVI  1 1. 

"  I  knew  him  well,  nay  we  were  best  of  friends  ; 

If  not  the  best,  'tis  certain  we  had  worse, 
And  oft,  retired  on  cities  skirts  and  ends, 

Rich  in  our  hopes,  though  even  not  in  purse, 
We've  hailed  that  muse  who  champagne-ways  descends, 

And  fabricated  melody  and  verse, 
Weaving  old  clouds  of  bright  Bohemian  mist, 
Into  new  dramas  which  were  uniformly  hissed. 

43 


LXIX. 

"This  music  then,"  said  Anne,  "derives  from  you." 
"Mostly,"  he  said,  "'tis  scarce  worth  being  named." 

But  Carolina  cried,  "can  that  be  true?" 
And  admiration  all  her  look  proclaimed  : 

Yet  disinclined  his  praises  to  pursue, 

Wishing  to  flatter,  and  still  not  be  blamed, 

Her  theme  she  widened,  and  assured  to  please, 

Began  to  speak  of  music  in  such  words  as  these  : 


LXX. 

"  How  so  impassioned,  yet  divinely  pure, 
Is  soul  felt  music  ;  'tis  the  glorious  art 

Of  all  art's  galaxy  the  cynosure  ; 

Its  splendor  radiates  from  the  heaven-lit  heart, 

And  kindles  mind  like  truth  made  warmer,  truer ; 
From  it  all  other  inspirations  dart, 

It  gives  new  motives  to  creative  will, 

And  sends  dynamic  blood  through  every  hidden  rill. 


LXXI. 

How  all  the  cries  of  grief,  reproach,  desire, 
Fear,  joy,  content,  sweet  music  can  express  ; 

Painting  and  poetry  may  still  inspire, 
Still  influence  the  soul,  but  less,  far  less  ; 

For  music  only  has  that  tongue  of  fire 
Whose  language  is  all  language  in  excess, 

Whose  tones  are  like  material  control, 

Whose  voice  indeed  descends  from  where  the  planets  roll." 

44 


LXXII. 

"  Being  so  eloquent,"  Diana  said, 

"  You  ought  to  let  your  hidden  scores  appear." 
"  Never,"  laughed  Carolina,  "  till  I'm  dead, 

I'll  never  live  till  I  am  on  my  bier ; 
You  know  an  artist  must  be  fully  sped 

Before  the  world  will  cease  to  be  severe. 
But  you  are  mocking,  let  our  Guardian  write, 
While  we  enact  the  work  his  genius  gives  to  light." 


LXXIII. 

"  A  splendid  thought,"  said  Anne,  "  to  charm  the  hours, 
I'll  paint  the  scenes  if  any  new  we  need 

With  all  my  youthful,  and  maturer  powers  ; 
To  cleanse  our  playroom  were  a  pious  deed, 

For  I  looked  lately  through  our  trees  and  towers, 
And  fled  aghast,  with  undelaying  speed, 

Scared  by  the  scowling  of  a  million  spiders, 

Who  seemed  to  rank  me  with  unauthorized  outsiders." 


LXXIV. 

"  But,"  said  the  Guardian,  "  make  a  fair  division— 
The  score  to  Caroline,  the  piece  to  me." 

"'Twould  be,"  said  Caroline,  "the  world's  derision, 
If  I  should  scribble  while  your  pen  was  free." 

"  Nay,  I  maintain  the  music  is  your  mission, 
My  pen  is  wingless,  practised  though  it  be ; 

But  if  your  pride  will  stoop  to  my  assistance, 

I'll  give  you  what  I  may,  in  cases  of  resistance." 

45 


LXXV. 

"Ah  !  with  that  promise  I  am  less  in  doubt, 
And  don  the  office  with  a  better  will, 

I'll  meet  the  future  with  an  ally  stout, 

Sure  of  some  honors  from  his  borrowed  skill ; 

But  here  is  "  Great  Diana"  quite  left  out, 
If,  Guardian,  you  and  I  propel  the  quill, 

And  Anna  draws  the  costumes  and  the  scenes, 

Tell  us  where  yonder  easy  genius  intervenes." 


LXXVI. 

"  Presiding  demon,  impresario," 

Diana  said,  "is  just  the  post  I  like." 
"  Of  course,"  said  Carolina,  "but  you  know, 

You'll  have  to  work  at  something  or  I  strike. " 
"  But  I've  no  talent  in  the  studio, 

No  gleam  of  genius  not  the  most  oblique." 
"  Indeed  "  said  Anne,  "  behold  the  famous  bird, 
Who  must  be  made  to  sing,  or  else  will  not  be  heard." 


LXXVII. 

"  Nay,  'tis  indeed  my  office — come  concur, 
And  now  to  give  my  function  exercise 

I  shall  exert  it  first  on  you,  dear  sir ; 

Hear  with  obedience,  as  our  love  you  prize, 

I  order  you  your  going  to  defer, 

We  need  you  to  encourage  and  advise  ; 

Under  your  aegis  we  shall  feel  secure, 

And  in  our  mediocrity  no  longer  poor." 

46 


LXXVIII. 

"  I  ask  no  better  fortune — I  remain, 

Glad  to  my  impresario  I  bend, 
Much  of  my  past  these  very  walls  contain, 

Much  of  my  future  may  they  comprehend  ; 
Then  since  my  wits  must  be  the  first  to  strain, 

This  very  night  Parnassus  I  ascend, 
How  I'm  received  you'll  know  when  morning  shines, 
With  your  permission  then  I'll  read  you  my  bad  lines. 


LXXIX. 

"  Good-night  then  Guardian,  you  must  be  alert, 
For  three  small  critics  never  known  to  spare. " 

"  Good-night  my  wards,  chastise  me  not  to  hurt, 
Nor  task  me  heavier  than  my  strength  can  bear ; 

I  hope  indeed  my  loins  will  prove  well  girt, 
For  though  most  critics  give  me  little  care, 

I  do  fear  you — so  please  to  recollect 

I'm  now  an  amateur,  and  cry  for  some  respect." 


LXXX. 

Now  morning  long  had  shone,  the  landward  breeze 
Came  lightly  from  the  main  the  lattice  through, 

And  passing,  brought  fresh  odors  from  the  trees, 

Which  waved  with  fruit,  and  buds,  and  blossoms  new. 

In  the  clear  distance  rolled  the  silver  seas, 
With  argent  crests  upon  ethereal  blue, 

The  earth  was  glittering  with  insect  crowds, 

The  air  with  vocal  birds,  that  winged  against  the  clouds. 

47 


LXXXI. 

Within,  around  a  snow-white  covered  board, 
The  Guardian  met  his  hostesses  again ; 

The  greetings  being  passed,  the  frame  restored, 
They  asked  their  laureate  of  his  last  night's  vein. 

He  answered,  that  the  muse  had  been  adored, 
But  that  his  altar  smoked  like  one  of  Cain ; 

Ah  no !  they  cried,  that  morning  style  we  know, 

You're  disenchanted  now,  but  we  will  not  be  so. 


LXXXI  I. 

The  Guardian  then  with  a  tired  poet's  sigh, 
Drew  forth  his  manuscript  and  read  aloud ; 

The  maidens  sat  in  expectation  by, 

A  lovely  audience  still  and  earnest  browed. 

The  piece  was  like  what  gallic  wits  supply 
To  draw  their  keen  and  comic  loving  crowd, 

A  light  burlesque  for  classic  dilettantes, 

And  called  "  The  Fickle  Greek  or  Jason  in  Atlantis." 


LXXXIII. 

The  bard  began,  and  reading  grew  inspired, 
The  muse  descended  brilliant  as  at  first, 

The  faithful  audience  listened  and  admired, 
And  little  notes  of  pleasure  interpersed  ; 

So  when  'twas  finished  nobody  was  tired, 
But  one  and  all  in  frank  laudation  burst, 

What  wit  and  force,  and  feeling  it  combines, 

What  purely  ringing  words  and  warmly  welded  lines. 

48 


LXXXIV. 

"  How,  "  said  the  Guardian,  "  such  good  news  for  me  ? 

This  morning,  I  was  quite  inclined  to  think, 
And  am  so  yet — that  in  this  comedy 

There  figures  much  less  intellect  than  ink ; 
But  that's  no  matter,  since  the  show  is  free, 

And  if  I  make  the  people  yawn  and  wink, 
More  praise  to  this  dear  Maestro  will  accrue, 
Who  wakes  the  sleeping  chords,  and  drowsy  circles  too." 


LXXXV. 

But  Carolina  made  a  piteous  cry : 

"  Oh  dear,  I  am  unutterably  lost, 
You  need  a  Maestro  greater  far  than  I — 

I  knew  not  what  my  promise  was  to  cost, 
E'en  with  your  aid  I  cannot  dare  to  try !  " 

"Alas  ! "  he  said,  "is  my  wit  touched  with  frost, 
And  can  my  lines  no  inspiration  give  ? 
Then  say  we  kill  the  piece,  and  let  the  public  live." 


LXXXVI. 

"  Nay,  nay,"  Diana  said,  "  it  shall  be  made, 

I'll  write  the  airs,  and  even  paint  the  scenes 
If  Caroline  and  Anna  are  afraid, 

Though  I  know  not  what  Carolina  means, 
I  never  saw  her  make  so  much  parade  ; 

We're  not  precisely  princesses  or  queens, 
But  what  we  give,  I  venture  to  believe, 

Will  be  quite  good  enough  for  any  who  receive 
49 


LXXXVII. 

Then  Carolina  quickly  glanced  and  spoke  : 
"  Why  be  assured  it  was  not  that,  I  meant, 

I  feared  not  writing  for  the  coming  folk, 
But  lest  the  poet  should  not  be  content ; 

Now  I  will  blaze,  if  through  a  cloud  of  smoke, 
And  what  I  fancy,  shame  shall  not  prevent  ; 

So  aid  me  chance,  or  my  propitious  star, 

My  hand  shall  drive  the  score  through  every  bolt  and  bar. 


LXXXVIII. 

"  Good  luck!"  said  Anne,  "that's  settled  then  I  trust, 

For  I  shall  daub  no  palaces  and  trees 
If  you  indulge  in  spasms  of  disgust  ; 

What  you  begin  you'll  finish  if  you  please, 
And  promise  too,  else  I  prefer  to  rust." 

"  Well,  I  do  promise,  put  yourself  at  ease, 
The  thing  is  done,  a  sure,  accomplished  fact, 
I  give  myself  a  week,  and  piously  contract." 


LXXXIX. 

Seven  morns  thereafter  Caroline  appeared, 

Bearing  the  music  in  a  bulky  roll : 
"  Gracious  ! "  said  Anna,  "  is  the  structure  reared, 

And  is  it  that — oh,  must  we  bear  the  whole?" 
"  Aye,  that  you  must  tormentor,  by  my  beard, 

But  drown  your  sorrows  in  your  coffee  bowl, 
Then  after  breakfast  take  it  cool  and  calm, 
And  don't  anticipate  a  sermon  or  a  psalm." 

5° 


xc. 


When  Carolina  played  the  overture 

They  all  applauded,  and  the  Guardian  said 

"  Well  done,  the  form  is  living,  free,  and  pure  " — 
"Why  yes,"  said  Anne,  "it  isn't  very  dead 

Although  the  plagiarisms  might  be  fewer, 

Perhaps  the  melodies  might  have  more  thread 

But  after  all  'tis  not  a  shocking  thing : 

Now  for  the  vocal  score,  what  part  am  I  to  sing  ? " 


XCI. 


Singing  the  parts,  they  found  so  much  to  praise, 

So  much  to  alter,  that  the  sun  declined, 
And  ere  they  ceased  had  spent  his  latest  rays ; 

Then  Anna  said, — "  Come  now,  I'm  almost  blind, 
This  is  not  certainly  the  last  of  days, 

On  yonder  clouds  to-morrow  sits  reclined, 
But  him  I  claim,  for  I  have  work  to  show, 
Though  Caroline's  success  will  make  mine  wane  I  know." 


XCII. 

"  Ah,  ah  !  Miss  Critic,"  Carolina  cried, 

"  You  fear  me  now  that  you  have  work  to  fault, 

I  shall  go  up  to  see  you  mortified, 

And  give  you  attic  bees  for  attic  salt  ; 

By  rules  of  art  your  dragon  shall  be  tried, 
Upon  my  war-horse  nimbly  will  I  vault, 

And  run  your  scenes  a  most  disastrous  tilt, 

Unless  your  windmills  are  remarkably  well  built." 


XCIII. 

"  Come  all,"  said  Anne  "  the  shock  will  I  await, 
Firm  as  a  rock,  I  never  will  recoil, 

I  drew  my  dragon  from  a  Raphael's  plate, 
And  covered  him  with  scales  of  real  tin-foil ; 

My  mountains  are  as  good  as  they  are  great, 
Yet,  oh  my  dragon  !   fruit  of  my  best  toil, 

To  him  I  cling,  the  landscape  I'll  resign, 

But  stand  a  lioness  for  that  one  cub  of  mine." 


XCIV. 

Up  rose  the  day  that  Anna  claimed  for  her, 
'Twas  like  her  talent,  unoppresive  light ; 

Vivacious  nature  made  an  early  stir, 

And  laid  away  the  sombre  robes  of  night ; 

Cool  as  the  clouds,  that  at  the  dawn  concur, 

The  maidens  came,  all  trimmed  in  floating  white, 

And  sailed  around  till  Anna  took  the  helm, 

And  piloted  the  fleet  to  her  peculiar  realm. 


XCV. 

Full  soon  gay  Carolina  launching  out, 

Brought  all  the  arrows  of  her  wit  to  bear  ; 

She  pierced  the  work  with  many  a  shrill  winged  doubt, 
But  hovering  victory  would  not  declare, 

For  Anna  fought,  and  made  defense  so  stout, 
Citing  the  masters,  quoting  Lempriere, 

That  Carolina  said,  "  I  quit  the  field, 

Dear  girl,  to  two  such  dragons,  Jason's  self  might  yield." 

52 


XCVI. 

"  Well,"  said  the  Guardian,  "  'tis  a  man's  good  task, 
To  set  a  mise-en-scene  as  this  is  done, 

I'd  know  not  where  to  go,  or  whom  to  ask 
To  get  a  better  or  an  equal  one  ; 

Faith  !  there  the  Hesperian  dragon  seems  to  bask, 
And  here  the  apples  glitter  in  the  sun, 

And  well  the  light  far  o'er  the  mountains  poured, 

Is  broken  on  their  flanks  with  cliff  and  chasm  scored." 


XCVII. 

"  True,"  said  Diana,  "  'tis  her  best  design, 
The  points  are  all  assembled  into  mass, 

Yet  plane  from  plane,  from  line  to  distant  line, 
The  forms  diffuse,  and  airy  colors  pass, 

And,  how  the  ocean  spreads  its  azure  fine, 
'Twould  almost  answer  the  far  spying  glass, 

So  sea-disposed,  that  wheresoe'er  we  are, 

Still  its  horizon  lifts  and  bears  the  sight  afar." 


XCVIII. 

"  Triumph  ! "  laughed  Carolina,  "  live  the  brush, 
You  oily  painters  with  your  unctuous  ways, 

Launch  on  the  tide  of  glory  with  a  rush  ; 
But,  I  say,  Anna,  you  deserve  your  praise, 

Your  lovely  work  makes  criticism  hush, 
And  even  admiration  seek  a  phrase  ; 

Whate'er  the  race,  you're  sure  to  be  the  winner, 

Whereon,  my  lords  and  ladies,  let  us  dress  for  dinner." 

53 


XCIX. 

They  dined  that  day  beneath  a  mango  shade 

In  utter  nature  as  their  hearts  desired, 
The  major  groaned,  the  cook  was  sore  dismayed 

Who  thought  a  fiend  the  fancy  had  inspired, 
The  art  of  Vatel  purely  to  degrade  ; 

But  into  that  the  guests  not  one  inquired, 
They  carved  the  meats  that  came,  the  wine  they  poured, 
Declaring  both  the  best  that  ever  sat  on  board. 


C. 


"  Now  friends,"  Diana  said,  "  one  thing  we  need, 
Something  marine,  for  I  demand  my  spray, 

Like  cocoa  trees,  or,  if  you  please,  sea-weed  ; 
This  house  is  too  far  inland  and  away, 

Give  me  a  sail,  or  I  believe,  indeed, 

My  wits  will  stagnate  and  my  blood  will  stay." 

"  Order  the  boat,"  laughed  Anne,  "  'twould  be  no  joke 

To  have  you  taken  with  an  apoplectic  stroke." 


CI. 


The  setting  sun  piled  up  one  mighty  sheaf 
Of  golden  rays  ;  but  soon  the  moon  came  fast 

In  crescent  beauty,  growing  in  relief ; 

Her  gleaming  sickle  through  the  sky  she  passed, 

And  harvesting  the  glory  made  her's  chief: 

Then  throned  on  clouds,  the  queen  of  night  at  last, 

Like  a  new  queen,  her  court  she  new  arrayed 

In  silver  tissue  light,  and  purple  velvet  shade. 

54 


CII. 


Reclining  on  the  cushioned  seats,  astern, 

They  saw  in  landward  haze,  sea,  sky,  and  shore ; 

Above,  the  steadfast  stars  began  to  burn, 
And  in  the  placid  gulf,  below  the  oar, 

A  world  of  fire  was  cleft  at  every  turn  : 

And  seaward  now  the  whispering  land  breeze  wore, 

Waking  faint  ocean  oracles  that  fell 

Soft  as  the  pearly  voice,  which  thrills  the  murmuring  shell. 


cm. 


Now,  on  the  echoing  coast,  the  white  clad  slaves 
Moved,  scarcely  seen,  but  known  by  that  low  song 

They  chanted  to  the  chorus  of  the  waves  ; 
The  fisher's  dog  barked  cheerfully  and  long, 

The  while  his  master  drove  the  bamboo  staves, 
And  spread  his  nets  expanding  light  but  strong  ; 

Then,  stars  of  love,  in  every  nook  and  keep, 

Far  guiding  homelights  rose  and  glimmered  o'er  the  deep. 


CIV. 

"  Oh  night !  "   Diana  sighed,  "  Oh  night  to  wake  ; 

Oh  lovely  night  to  take  the  lute  and  chant  ; 
Oh  night  to  clasp  all  Heaven  in  one  heart-break  ; 

Oh  night  to  love  a  planet  or  a  plant  ! 
Come,  Carolina,  make  these  lute  strings  quake, 

Sing  of  yon  firmament  of  adamant, 
Sing  of  the  night— Oh,  sing  some  heavenly  strain- 
About  the  happy  stars,  and  worlds  that  have  no  pain  ! 

55 


SONG. 

On  yonder  sheen  what  figures  bright, 

Of  constellations  rising, 
Weave  through  the  dark  blue  web  of  night, 
Their  tissues  of  celestial  light, 

And  infinite  devising. 


Those  heavenly  images  of  fire, 

Whose  beauty  grows  with  gazing, 
Those  are  the  worlds  that  we  desire, 
The  spheres  to  which  we  still  aspire, 
Our  tearful  eyes  upraising. 


But  even  these  like  us  may  die, 

And  vanish  ere  the  morrow, 
While  faith  alone  can  see  on  high 
New  worlds,  far,  far  beyond  the  sky, 
Where  there  shall  be  no  sorrow. 


CV. 


"  Now  that  is  wonderfully  good,"  said  Anne, 
"  Another  verse  had  made  it  almost  grand, 

Whoe'er  would  know  the  true  siderial  plan 
Is  answered  by  my  darling  out  of  hand  ; 

Come  down  astronomer,  thou  groping  man, 
Here  is  the  theory  on  which  we  stand. 

Now,  Dian,  will  you  deign  to  strike  the  thongs, 

And  give  us  one  of  your  sweet  sentimental  songs." 

56 


CVI. 


"  Mercy  !  "   Diana  cried,  "  if  you  can  stop, 

Where  does  your  silly  nonsense  come  from  pray  ? " 

"  Out  of  my  head  of  course,  right  here  on  top, 

Where  my  bright  thoughts,  my  champagne  ideas  stay, 

My  cork  of  nonsense  sometime  has  to  pop, 
To  carry  Carolina's  airs  away  ; 

But  they  are  gone  my  lady  like  a  star, 

I'm  melancholy  now — assume  the  light  guitar. 


SONG. 

Sir  Rupert  he  rode  with  his  men  to  the  fight, 

His  lady,  left  weeping  at  home  ; 
In  silence  she  watched  her  fair  lord  out  of  sight, 
Then  turned  with  her  eyes  full  of  tears  and  of  light, 

And  called  for  her  maidens  to  come. 


Go  fetch  me  a  doublet,  and  hosen  and  cloak, 

And  bring  me  the  arms  of  a  lad, 
I  cannot  stay  here  from  my  lord  and  his  folk, 
I  go  to  the  fight,  I  may  ward  off  a  stroke, 
Then  die  at  his  feet  and  be  glad. 


The  enemy's  banner  streamed  over  the  plain, 

The  baron  was  sorely  oppressed, 
He  was  smitten,  and  bleeding,  and  pale  with  his  pain ; 
And  when  the  sun  sank,  and  he  lay  with  the  slain, 

She  lay  with  her  head  on  his  breast. 
57 


CVII. 

"  What  a  most  ancient,  and  exhausted  style ! 

I  see,"  said  Anna,  "you  are  growing  old, 
Poor  sister,  when  I  think  there  was  a  while, 

When  you  were  not  the  wreck  I  now  behold." 
"Nay,"  said  Diana,  answering  her  smile, 

"  The  more  I  venture  then  the  more  you  scold." 
"  Yes,  'tis  my  gift — I  lay  it  on  the  shelf 
Like  others,  only  when  I  need  it  for  myself." 


CVIII. 

i 

"  But,  Guardian,  you  look  silvery  in  the  moon, 
Strike  the  resounding  lyre  to  something  gay, 

Tis  now  your  turn  to  execute  a  tune, 
Dian,  I  think,  has  fainted  quite  away, 

Her  efforts  also  nearly  made  me  swoon  ; 
But  clasp  the  harp— or  no,  I  think  I'll  play, 

Diana  only  sang  one  strain,  the  first, 

I'll  sing  the  second  now,  and  you  guess  which  is  worst." 


SONG. 

She  lay  with  her  head  on  her  warrior's  breast, 

His  vassals  were  beaten,  run  off, 
But  she  was  not  dead,  and  it  must  be  confessed, 
The  chill  of  the  evening  congesting  her  chest, 

She  was  slightly  alarmed  by  a  cough. 


The  victors  had  taken  her  castle  and  wine, 

And  wassail  they  held  in  the  hall, 
So  she  sobbed  and  she  said  "  'tis  the  fiat  divine, 
58 


My  lord  he  is  dead,  but  his  fortune  is  mine, 
I'd  better  go  see  to  it  all." 


She  buried  him  decently,  deep  in  the  ground, 

And  then,  being  nobody's  wife, 
She  married  the  conqueror  jolly  and  round, 
And  though  for  the  baron  her  grief  was  profound, 

Lived  happy  the  rest  of  her  life. 


CIX. 


Even  Diana  laughed  at  Anna's  verse, 

And  praised  her  parody — "  Were  I,"  said  she, 

"  Depraved  enough  to  think  there  could  be  worse 
Than  my  unconscionable  poetry, 

Yours  is  the  gift  my  vision  to  disperse, 
And  make  me  see  myself  as  others  see." 

"  There,  there  !  "  cried  Anna,  "  That  is  too  severe, 

Accept  my  truest  hand,  accept  my  kiss  sincere." 


CX. 


"Ah,  come  !  "  said  Carolina,  "  spare  the  scene, 
Our  Guardian  cannot  bear  so  much  emotion, 

Pass  him  the  lute  to  sing  to  some  Undine 
A  lay  of  sea  love,  infinite  devotion — 

A  song  of  sighs  to  make  the  boat  careen, 

And  dip  the  tear  spray  from  the  heaving  ocean  ; 

I  feel  a  sadness  stealing  undefined, 

I  feel  a  formless  cloud— some  foe  the  fates  unbind." 

59 


CXI. 


"  Then  think  no  more  of  night  and  vanished  stars, 
Or  heroes  stretched  upon  the  mortal  field — 

I'll  change  the  theme  and  sing  of  gentler  scars, 
And  of  a  nobler  orb  though  now  concealed  ; 

Love,  and  the  Sun,  are  chanted  in  my  bars, 

That  deep,  true,  love  which  like  the  dawn,  revealed, 

Grows  dazzling  like  the  Sun,  and  if  it  die, 

Leaves  memory  in  the  heart  like  starlight  in  the  sky.' 

SONG. 
Ah  !  quelle  Aurore  quand  sur  le  coeur, 

Le  doux  rayon  d'  Amour  se  leve, 
L'  instant  benit  de  cette  lueur, 
Eveille  enfin  le  vrai  bonheur 

Qui  tantot  n'existait  qu'  en  reve. 

La  nuit  astree,  vraiment  est  belle 

Des  lustres  blanches  qui  parent  son  front, 

Mais  vite  s'eteignent  ces  etincelles 

Dedans  les  flots  ardents,  reels, 
Que  lance  1'  Etoile  de  1'  Orient. 

Ainsi  Ton  voit  s'evanouir 

Les  pales  images  qui  planent  sur  Fame, 
Quand  dans  le  sphere  de  leur  empire, 
L'  Amour  celeste  vient  luire, 

Et  tout  inonde  de  sa  flamme. 

Lors — si  cette  belle  Etoile  se  baisse, 

Si  cet  Amour  une  fois  s'enfuit, 
Toujours  dans  la  tristesse  il  laisse 
Des  douces  memoires  qui  reparaissent 

Comme  les  astres  de  la  nuit. 
60 


CXII. 

With  sudden  fury  from  the  changing  north, 
There  now  swept  by  a  chill  increasing  blast, 

Back  sank  the  moon,  and  shapeless  clouds  came  forth — 
The  warm  air  curdled  where  the  norther  passed, 

And  in  an  instant,  lambent  swarth  on  swarth, 

The  storm  scythe  mowed  the  crested  waves  up  cast ; 

Darkness  shut  out  the  land — death  in  the  foam 

Gnashed  on  the  breakers  'twixt  the  tossing  boat  and  home. 


CXIII. 

Athwart  the  gathering  gloom  o'er  head,  around, 
Flashing  incessantly  the  lightening  glowed — 

Then,  far  and  near,  burst  the  wild  thunder's  sound, 
And  swept  the  rainlash,  like  a  shrieking  goad 

Behind  the  blank  maned  ocean  steeds  unbound  ; 
The  plunging  boat  o'er  crest  and  chasm  rode, 

But  still  sustained  the  elemental  wrath, 

Speeding  with  buoyant  life  through  ruin's  chosen  path. 


CXIV. 

Soon  came  on  surging  an  impending  wave, 

Which  wrapped  in  shrouding  foam,  too  ghastly  white, 

Yawned  o'er  them  like  an  omen  of  the  grave  ; 
The  sisters  cried,  "Can  we  outlive  the  night  ? " 

The  Guardian  answered,  "  Yes  we  can,  be  brave, 
I  swear  it  by  the  very  lightning's  light  ; 

Give  me  the  helm  !  I've  made  full  many  a  vow, 

And  weathered  worse  than  this,  in  lighter  craft  than  now. 

61 


cxv. 

The  Guardian  seized  the  helm,  and  shouted,  "  Men ! 

Bend  to  your  oars  once,  pull  and  make  them  crack, 
I'll  bring  her  round  to  head  the  sea  again — 

Then  hoist  that  jib — see  that  the  sheets  are  slack — 
Do  more  than  all  your  duty,  pull  like  ten !  " 

Round  came  the  bow,  down  came  the  ocean  black, 
But  the  boat  clove  through  that  columnar  tide, 
And  sank,  and  rose,  and  turned  to  breast  the  wave  and  ride. 


CXVI. 

Still  blew  the  gale  with  more  tempestuous  force, 

And  rapidly  the  billows  drove  the  bark 
Where  grating  breakers  called  with  voices  hoarse, 

And  grinned  in  froth,  that  glistened  through  the  dark  ; 
The  Guardian  cried — "  Oh  men  keep  out  your  oars ! " 

And  that  they  did,  till  every  nerve  was  stark  : 
But  they  were  nought,  and  nought  their  feeble  strain, 
'Gainst  that  condensing  storm,  and  cumulating  main. 


CXVII. 

Then  apprehension  first  began  to  wake — 
The  Guardian's  heart  beat  in  his  very  throat, 

Driving  ashore — and  what  last  effort  make  ? 
Anchors  would  hold  not,  nor  the  vessel  float, 

Yet  these  three  more  than  precious  lives  at  stake ; 
There  was  one  hope,  to  safely  beach  the  boat, 

And  so  he  hailed  with  shouts  that  rived  the  blast, 

"Take  in  your  oars,  my  men,  and  stand  by  for  the  last ! 

62 


CXVIII. 

"  We  must  drift  on,  so  I  shall  go  about, 

And  run  ashore  wherever  I  can  reach ; 
Now,  when  we  strike,  let  every  man  leap  out, 

And  lift  the  best  he  can  to  clear  the  beach  ; 
Your  unrewarded  faith  I  do  not  doubt, 

But  still  I  promise  freedom,  all  and  each, 
If  I  can  save  these  ladies  by  your  aid." 
And  through  the  gale  they  clamored, "  We  are  not  afraid ! ' 


CXIX. 

He  put  the  helm  up  and  the  shallop  wore, 
Quick  as  the  wind  she  vaulted  in  the  air, 

She  whirled  about,  and  drove  towards  the  shore, 
With  gathering  speed  thro'  tempest,  cloud,  and  glare  ; 

The  gale  rebellowed  in  the  ocean's  roar, 
The  thunder  rolled  the  larum  of  despair, 

The  smitten  water  heaped  electric  foam, 

And  rays  of  horrent  light  edged  every  billow's  comb. 


CXX. 

The  Guardian  stood,  and  with  dilated  eye 

Scanned  the  dark  coast  in  each  revealing  flash — 

And  once,  he  seemed  a  still  lagoon  to  spy, 

Somewhat  protected  from  the  breaker's  crash ; 

But  o'er  the  reef  the  tortured  spray  flew  high, 

And  where  the  gloom  gaped  with  the  lightning's  gash, 

It  seemed  to  show  the  monstrous  jaws  of  night 

Spread  but  to  clash  again  upon  all  hope  and  light. 

63 


CXXI. 

Now  with  a  lifeless  cheek,  but  straining  ear, 
The  Guardian  listened  for  that  dreadful  noise, 

Which  all  were  bent  with  agony  to  hear, 
The  grating  of  the  boat — a  moment's  poise, 

Then  in  the  gulf  and  down  the  billow  sheer, 

Embanked  in  seething  snow  she  touched.    "  Out  boys ! " 

The  helmsman  cried,  then  cast  the  rudder  free 

And  springing  fearless,  first,  leaped  in  the  rolling  sea. 


CXXI  I. 

A  fearful  moment — a  terrific  sight, 

To  see  such  brave  men  battle  with  such  foe ; 

The  sisters  sank  in  speechless  mortal  fright, 

While  those  were  swept  in  struggling,  to  and  fro : 

Vast  changing  waves  of  awful  depth  and  height, 
A  formless  but  a  ponderous  ebb  and  flow, 

Now  dashed  them  gasping  shoreward,  whirled  a-heap, 

Now  reft  them  scattered  back,  rewhelming  in  the  deep. 


CXXIII. 

With  more  than  human  energy  inspired, 

The  Guardian  and  his  men,  clung,  pushed  and  braced — 
He  by  his  spirit,  they,  by  his  voice  fired, 

Bruised,  blinded,  drowning,  still  the  danger  faced  ; 
A  giant  palm,  by  gusty  whirlwinds  gyred 

And  struck  by  lightning,  from  the  clouds  displaced, 
With  all  its  weighty  limbs  fell  headlong  near 
Unheard,  unseen,  uncared  for,  they  were  done  with  fear. 

64 


CXXIV. 

But  now  a  heaving  volume  of  dark  brine, 

Shining  and  smooth  as  black  obsidian 
Up  buoyed  them  far  beyond  the  coral  line, 

And  on,  the  vessel  tremulously  ran 
Till  caught  in  quiet  water  by  a  vine. 

The  crew  climbed  in  unwounded,  every  man, 
Alone,  the  Guardian's  grasp  relaxed  its  strain, 
Sickness  unstrung  his  nerves,  and  stupor  numbed  his  brain, 


cxxv. 

"  Oh  girls,  my  arm  is  broken  ! "  he  exclaimed, 
"  Quick,  Carolina,  lean  and  help  me  rise  ! " 

But  she  was  useless  whom  the  Guardian  named, 
Helpless  herself,  with  fright  and  new  surprise. 

But  Dian's  arms  embraced  her  hero  maimed, 
For  though  uncalled,  yet  tender,  true,  and  wise, 

Quick  with  the  crew  she  sprang,  the  most  alert, 

To  lift  the  wounded  man  through  whom  she  lived  unhurt. 


CXXVI. 

Half  suffocated,  almost  bruised  to  death, 

The  Guardian  fainted  on  her  wave  wet  breast, 

While  fear  and  joy  scarce  left  Diana  breath, 
To  fill  the  bosom  which  his  pale  cheek  pressed. 

His  moan  of  pain  was  love's  own  Shibboleth, 

Straight  to  her  heart  the  language  was  addressed, 

And  night  and  danger  vanished  while  she  dreamed, 

This  is  my  own  to  keep,  my  ocean  pledge  redeemed. 

65 


CXXVII. 

"  Set  the  boat  over  to  the  other  side," 

At  last  she  said,  "  our  house  cannot  be  far, 

Let  two  of  you  run  thither  while  we  bide, 
And  bring  us  horses,  or  an  easy  car ; 

First  send  for  all  the  doctors  far  and  wide, 

And  you  who  stay,  light  what  dry  sticks  there  are." 

Soon,  roused  with  cold,  the  aching  patient  stirred, 

And  his  low  shivering  sigh  at  once  Diana  heard. 


CXXVIII. 

"  We're  safe  ashore,"  she  said,  "  escaped  the  storm, 
The  sky  is  breaking,  and  behold  a  fire, 

Come  dry  your  feet,  and  keep  your  poor  arm  warm, 
And  let  us  serve  you,  we  are  all  entire." 

Now  the  light  flame  evolved  a  flickering  form, 
And  then  became  a  bright,  increasing  spire, 

Which  mounted  in  the  woods  a  radiant  blaze, 

Filling  the  copse  with  warmth,  and  penetrating  rays. 


CXXIX. 

"  Oh,  oh,  how  comfortable  !  "  cried  they  all, 
"  See  how  the  value  of  a  thing  is  known." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Guardian,  "  after  such  a  squall 
A  foot  of  terra-firma  is  a  throne  ; 

This  forest  is  a  monarch's  palace  hall, 

This  reed  the  safest  sceptre  ever  grown — 

And  I  can  fancy  that  the  salt  sea  gems 

Are  crystallizing  on  your  brows  in  diadems." 

66 


cxxx. 

"  Ah  !  you  are  bright  with  most  unselfish  grace," 

Diana  said,  "  but  I  am  unconsoled  : 
Here  is  my  shawl,  a  bandage  of  fine  lace, 

'Tis  rough  dried,  but  'twill  save  your  arm  from  cold, 
How  can  I  see  that  suffering  in  your  face 

When  I,  to  spare  you  pain,  would  bear  untold  ?  " 
"Oh!  'tis  not  much,"  he  said,  "a  man's  right  arm, 
Is  gloriously  spent  in  shielding  you  from  harm." 


CXXXI. 

"  'Tis  much,"  said  Caroline,  "  a  living  debt, 

Exactly  something  never  to  be  paid, 
This  fearful  night  I  never  can  forget, 

In  dreams  for  years  I  still  shall  be  afraid." 
"  For  me,"  said  Anne,  "  I  think  I'm  dreaming  yet, 

So  wholly  hopelessly  was  I  dismayed- 
Pah  !  drowning  is  the  death  I  most  detest, 
Though  I  suppose  there's  none  much  better  than  the  rest. 


CXXXII. 

"  Faith  !  "  said  the  Guardian,  "  all  the  world  admits 
That  death's  a  waking  of  the  rudest  kind  ; 

There  must  be  when  the  startled  spirit  flits, 
An  awful  vista  forward  and  behind, 

And  any  choice  among  the  infinites 
Is  but  the  wild  selection  of  the  blind  : 

But  I  feared  not  the  sea,  I  know  my  lot, 

My  death  has  been  foretold,  and  drowning  it  is  not  ! 

67 


CXXXIII. 

"  How,  when,  by  whom  ?  "     "A  sorcerer  whom  I  knew, 
A  bearded  seer  once  drew  my  horoscope, 

He  worked  my  starry  houses  through  and  through, 
And  damned  my  future  better  than  a  pope  ; 

For  certain  of  his  visions  did  ensue — 
And,  kill-joy  sage,  assassin  of  all  hope, 

He  prophesied,  in  some  disastrous  vein, 

That  I  should  die  not  late,  and  with  a  dagger  slain." 


CXXXIV. 

"  Oh,  horror !  "  cried  Diana,  "  then  stay  here, 
Stay  here  forever,  I  will  take  such  care, 

That  this  forecast  shall  fail  for  many  a  year, 
No  violence,  not  even  in  the  air, 

Shall  enter  past  my  vigilance  of  fear— 
"  How  fair  a  guardian  angel — but  beware, 

Encase  me  not  too  strongly,  for  you  know 

A  panoply  of  steel  will  draw  the  thunder's  blow." 


cxxxv. 

Now,  just  as  if  by  some  good  magic  cleared, 

The  brindled  clouds  unveiled  the  heavenly  lights, 

The  sky  as  splendid  as  before  appeared, 
And  darkness  left  the  empyreal  heights  ; 

The  gale  subsided,  and  the  breezes  veered, 
Once  more  it  was  the  loveliest  of  nights, 

The  lightning  was  extinct,  the  thunder  mute, 

And  the  last  shattered  billow  broke  irresolute. 

68 


CXXXVI. 

"  See  now,"  said  Anne,  "  the  waves  are  so  decreased, 

We  might  go  easily  by  water  home." 
"  No,  no  !  "  cried  Caroline,  "  enough's  a  feast, 

Let's  travel  back  on  good  substantial  loam ; 
I've  no  intention  when  I  am  deceased, 

To  turn  a  mermaid  with  a  glass  and  comb, 
The  boat  is  wrecked,  don't  dream  of  that  again, 
Besides  here  come  the  steeds — Adieu,  unfriendly  main. 


CXXXVII. 

Now  near  they  saw  the  horses  trampling  through, 
Crushing  the  sparkling  tinder  in  the  wood, 

Panting  and  wet  they  sallied  into  view, 

And  staring  fine  eyed  by  the  bivouac  stood  ; 

Foam  from  their  lips  at  every  movement  flew, 

And  on  their  thorn-frayed  sides,  besprent  with  blood, 

The  shifting  firelight  jetted  ruddier  stains, 

While  ample  shadows  fell  from  their  projecting  veins. 


CXXXVI  1 1. 

Joyous  were  all  to  see  the  cavalcade, 

And  straightway  mounted,  little  willed  to  stay, 

Then  through  the  wood  and  new  illumined  glade, 
The  shadowy  figures  made  their  devious  way  ; 

Fair  in  the  sky  the  stars  were  new  arrayed 
And  fair  on  earth  the  quiet  moonlight  lay  ; 

So  on  they  passed  and  while  they  rode  aside, 

The  fire  threw  one  last  gleam,  then  smoldered,  smoked 

and  died. 

69 


CANTO  II. 


THE  GUARDIAN. 


CANTO  II. 


A     WIDE,  high,  spacious  room  with  polished  floor, 

Cool  and  resounding,  quite  uncarpeted, 
But  laid  with  all  the  woods  of  nature's  store, 

In  fabric  over  fine  for  foot  to  tread  ; 
On  each  long  side  expands  a  carven  door, 

And  many  latticed  windows  widely  spread, 
Whence,  freely  flowing  round  the  painted  walls, 
The  breezes  are  impelled  and  checkered  sunlight  falls. 


II. 


On  every  side,  bright  clustering  pictures  swarm, 
And  richly  frescoed  spreads  the  ceiling  high  ; 

While  here  and  there  a  vase,  a  marble  form, 
With  cooler  gleams  relieves  the  dazzled  eye ; 

Where  the  deep  colors  glow  intensely  warm, 
There  dreams  Endymion  with  his  lover  shy  ; 

Where  the  reflections  congregate  too  bright, 

There,  lifts  his  marble  bow,  the  snow-white  god  of  light. 

73 


III. 


At  one  end,  from  the  ceiling  to  the  ground, 
A  deep  recess  a  store  of  books  contains, 

The  works  of  authors  brilliant  or  profound, 
Each  who  the  fancy,  or  the  thought  enchains  ; 

Here  music  and  its  instruments  abound, 
While  over  all  the  lordly  organ  reigns. 

There,  on  a  carved  buffet,  the  next  to  hand, 

Dry  cakes  and  sugared  fruits,  with  wine  and  ices  stand. 


IV. 


Through  the  wide  doors  the  eye  can  range  abroad, 
Where  deathless  plants  perennial  buds  unroll, 

Or  where  again,  towards  the  ocean's  bord 
The  ragged  cocoas  wave  on  every  knoll ; 

In  front,  a  strip  of  sea-gleam,  like  a  sword, 

Hangs  on  the  ribbed  shore  girt  with  coral  shoal ; 

Afar,  the  currents  damascene  its  blue, 

And  near,  its  steely  glancing  cuts  the  picture  through. 


V. 


Another  side  presents  another  scene, 

Where  large  plantations  of  the  sugar  cane, 

With  lanceolated  leaves  of  dull  sea  green, 

And  wax  bright  coffee  grow  on  hill  and  plain ; 

Yonder  the  mountains,  in  a  rainbow  screen, 
Shine  iridescent  through  the  formless  rain 

Where  all  the  vaporous  breath  that  earth  exhales, 

Reeks  on  the  heights  again,  and  rills  to  feed  the  vales. 

74 


VI. 


The  far  extending  woods  in  massive  tiers, 

Wide  zones  of  foliage  round  the  mountains  make  ; 

There,  his  thick  crest  the  stark  Corroso  rears, 
Or  proudly  salient  through  the  meaner  brake 

The  giant  fig-tree  bursts  and  domineers  ; 
Here,  sombre  and  briarean  by  the  lake, 

The  old  mahogany,  with  vines  enlaced, 

Scowls  on  the  forest  by  his  mining  roots  displaced. 


VII. 


Endless  varieties  of  lesser  trees, 
Adorn  the  scene  with  multiplying  bloom, 

So  orange,  green,  and  purple  travesties, 
Streak  the  pied  tissues  of  a  Gobelin  loom  ; 

The  mottled  mountains  fading  by  degrees, 
Translucent  azure  far  away  assume, 

Like  that  refined  and  dim  marmoreal  hue, 

Blending  on  Reni's  bosoms  where  the  veins  gleam  blue. 


VIII. 

Within,  the  Guardian  sits  with  face  still  pale, 
But  joyous  on  the  sea  his  eyes  are  cast, 

Two  months  have  passed  since  that  disastrous  sail, 
And  now  the  broken  arm  is  healed  at  last ; 

New  grateful  pleasures  through  his  frame  prevail, 
And  all  the  pristine  vigor  of  the  past  ; 

The  fair  Diana  stands  assiduous  near, 

Seeking  a  theme  to  charm  the  convalescent's  ear. 

75 


IX. 


"  What  shall  I  read  you,  my  dear  Guardian,  say  ? 

All  the  new  books  are  read,  and  some  re-read, 
One  must  revert  upon  the  past  to-day, 

On  the  immortal,  and  illustrious  dead  ; 
Shall  I  read  Milton  now  to  make  you  gay  ?" 

"  No,"  said  the  Guardian,  "spare  my  feeble  head, 
I  want  to  hear  no  half  scanned  Genesis/ 
With  devils  cannonading  in  the  realms  of  bliss." 


X. 


"  Well  Shakespeare  then  ? "     "  No,  him  I  know  by  heart, 

At  least  his  beauties,  I  abjure  the  rest, 
The  blushes  of  a  Hottentot  would  start 

At  that  Elizabethan  filth  and  jest." 
"  Then  Dante  ?  "  "  He's  an  old  dry  bone  of  art, 

His  juiceless  quiddities  I  do  detest, 
A  sadder  pair  of  pedagogues,  on  oath 
I  never  met,  than  Dante  and  his  lady  both." 


XI. 


"  What  will  you  have  then,  something  older  still, 
Homer  for  instance  ?  "     "  I  should  go  to  sleep, 

Those  see-saw  battles  up  and  down  a  hill, 

Those  clockwork  heroes  make  the  moments  creep, 

Troy's  mud  baked  walls  assaulted  with  no  skill, 
And  Father  Priam  equally  are  cheap." 

"  Well,  Virgil,  there's  a  lovely  poet  sure — " 

"He  has  amusing  traits,  and  tolerably  pure, 

76 


XII. 

"  But  good  Eneas  is  an  awful  bore 

And  so  Lavinia  and  Ascanius  are." 
Diana  laughed  :  "  Come,  I  will  try  once  more, 

Here  is  Confucius,  China's  dear  papa, 
His  wit,  you  know,  has  made  all  ages  roar." 

"  Confucius,  never  !  too  much  caviar." 
"  What,  no  ?     Why  master  you  are  ill  at  ease, 
How  is  our  arm  to-day,  what  makes  you  hard  to  please  ? " 


XIII. 

"  Oh,  I  am  well,  I  thank  my  lovely  nurse, 
Too  well  to  care  for  books  this  beauteous  day, 

I  much  prefer  to  sit  here  and  converse, 

And  wile  the  hours  in  hearing  what  you  say." 

"  Good,"  said  Diana,  "may  you  ne'er  do  worse, 
And  I  will  tell  you,  talking  by  the  way, 

That  all  the  world  is  in  commotion  yet, 

To  hear  and  criticise,  our  pending  operette. 


XIV. 

For,  in  this  time,  the  men  have  learned  their  roles, 
And,  with  the  indiscretion  of  true  males, 

Have  sung  them  everywhere  like  wailing  souls  ; 
I  ordered  them  to  rather  sing  their  scales, 

Or  something  kindred  to  their  midnight  bowls  : 
But  no,  the  fatal  mania  still  prevails. 

Poor  Carolina  is  aghast  with  fright, 

And  hides  the  overture  from  everybody's  sight." 

77 


XV. 


"  Nay,"  said  the  Guardian,  "  there  is  no  harm  done, 
It  seems  to  show  the  trifle  will  succeed, 

Get  the  rehearsals  then  at  once  begun, 
And  bring  the  crisis  with  the  greater  speed. 

Why  not  commence  it  with  to-morrow's  sun  ? 
You,  madam  impresario,  take  the  lead, 

And  write  to  Atlas,  and  my  Grecian  crew, 

That  we  rehearse  to-morrow,  punctual  at  two." 


XVI. 

"  I  will,"  said  Dian — "  Then  another  thing, 

I  want  your  amiable  advice  about, 
A  fancy  passed  me  like  a  bird  on  wing 

And  faded  somewhere  in  the  realms  of  doubt — 
'Twas  this,  that  when  the  world  has  heard  us  sing, 

We  finish  with  a  masquerade  and  rout ! " 
"  Good,"  said  the  Guardian,  "  we  can  do  no  less, 
If  that  wont,  nothing  will  ensure  complete  success." 


XVII. 

Next  day  at  two,  the  whole  commingled  troupe 

Responded  fully  to  Diana's  call, 
And  clustering  in  an  animated  group, 

Talked  of  the  piece,  the  music  and  the  ball ; 
Firstly  they  ate  a  lunch  of  parrot  soup, 

With  good  canary  in  the  dining  hall, 
Then  to  the  theatre  they  moved  apace, 
Diana  leading  forth  with  all  inviting  grace. 

78 


XVIII. 

Here  orchestra  and  actors  gathered  fast, 

Tuning  and  screaming  "  Say,  have  you  the  A  ? " 

Or,  "  Where's  the  chorus  ? "— "  What  a  stupid  cast !  " 
"  For  my  part  I  can  never  sing  to-day. " 

"  Bon  jour."     "  Oh  mercy  !  there  you  are  at  last." 
"  Is  this  the  bass  ?"     "  Well,  what  am  I  to  play  ? " 

"  Come  here."  "  Go  there."  u  Stop,  tie  my  sandal  please  ?  " 

"  I  have  a  frightful  cold,  forgive  me  if  I  sneeze." 


XIX. 


"  Gracious  !  "  cried  Anna,  "  here's  a  dreadful  scene, 

Was  any  object  ever  known  to  fit  ? 
Don't  put  those  lights  so  near  my  magazine, 

You'll  blow  us  up.     Oh!  you're  the  soul  of  wit." 
"  Come,"  cried  the  Guardian,  "  where  the  deuce — I  mean, 

Please  to  excuse  me,  move  that  shore  a  bit. 
Now  Carolina,  are  you  going  to  lead, 
We  wait  for  you  alone,  we're  ready  to  proceed  ?" 


XX. 


The  fair  composer  seized  an  ebon  wand, 
And  waved  it  high,  with  joy  in  every  trait, 

Bang  went  the  music  of  the  fortress  band — 
"  Trombone,"  cried  Carolina,  "  you're  too  late  ; 

You  drummer,  what's  the  matter  ?     Spare  your  hand  ! 
Look  second  flute  the  movement  is  twelve  eight ; 

'Cello,  observe  that  C  is  double  sharp, 

And  harper,  if  you  please,  stop  tuning  up  your  harp." 

79 


XXI. 

"  Piano,  softly,  will  you  deign  to  mind  ? 

Now  hautboy  take  the  trill,  don't  be  afraid  ; 
You  horns,  we're  waiting  till  you  feel  inclined, 

A  fine  diminuendo  you  have  played, 
I  call  that  forte,  tell  me  are  you  blind  ? 

That  second  fiddle,  he  was  born,  not  made. 
Crescendo,  come,  wake  orchestra  perverse, 
Apollo  help  us — after  all  it  might  be  worse." 


XXII. 

So  went  the  overture  ;  and  then  the  piece, 
Chaos,  the  Guardian  thought  had  come  again. 

"  We'll  never  make  them  think  we  came  from  Greece, 
Where  dramas  figured  on  the  open  plain." 

"  Oh,  some  rehearsals  under  good  police," 
Diana  said,  "  will  bring  us  into  train, 

And  since  this  is  no  moment  to  excel, 

For  my  part  I'm  astonished  that  we  do  so  well." 


XXIII. 

Then  Anna's  palace  would  not  stand  erect, 
And  all  the  carpenters  received  their  share. 

"  Indeed,"  said  Anna,  "  what  can  you  expect, 
When  such  stupidity  pervades  the  air  ? 

You,  Mr.  Jones,  are  you  an  architect  ? 

Come  reeve  those  pulleys,  some  attention  there, 

Do  you  suppose  that  you  deserve  per  day 

The  guinea  that  you  earn  in  this  disgusting  way  ? " 

80 


XXIV. 

The  second  act  commenced  with  more  success, 
And  went  sometime  without  the  least  mishap. 

"  That  moves/'  the  Guardian  said,  "  I  do  confess, 
Now  I  have  hope,  but  where's  the  thunder  clap? 

Our  battery  lacks  a  natural  address— 
Tympani !  give  us  one  electric  rap — 

But  not  too  shocking — ah  !  that  pagan  gong, 

Sourdine  the  drums,  be  merciful  as  you  are  strong." 


XXV. 

When  came  the  final  scene  and  great  event, 
The  carpenters  ran  wild  from  side  to  side ; 

Long  on  the  ropes  their  furrowed  brows  were  bent, 
This  must  be  loosed,  that  other  must  be  tied  ; 

And  oh  !  What  may  be  that  distressing  rent  ? 
Is  that  for  lightning  ?     Well,  its  far  too  wide  ! 

Such  were  the  troubles,  but  at  last  they  ended, 

And  then  the  words  were,  excellent,  sublime  and  splendid. 


XXVI. 

Like  this,  flew  many  lively  going  days, 

And  friends  at  these  rehearsals,  now  allowed, 

Performed  their  parts  of  light  advice  and  praise, 
But  chiefly  to  the  charming  lunches  bowed, 

Where  fruits,  and  breads,  and  wines,  and  game  pate's 
And  mountain  ice  from  peaks  above  the  cloud, 

Slaked  thirst,  fed  hunger,  or  the  wit  restored, 

With  all  the  tonics  of  an  ample,  graceful  board. 

81 


XXVII. 

This  style  was  called  so  perfectly  divine, 
That  Anne  proposed  to  add  a  rural  fete  ; 

So  that,  was  grafted  on  the  first  design, 
And  then  the  notes  began  to  circulate ; 

At  once  the  belles  prepared  to  rise  and  shine, 
At  once  the  beaux,  the  belles  to  imitate. 

Forth  came  a  shower  of  costumes  bright  or  sere, 

As  when  your  woods  in  fall  salute  your  changing  year. 


XXVIII. 

All  was  concerted  by  the  promised  day— 

Up  rose  the  sun,  and  sunward  rose  the  dew  ; 

The  hours  passed  on,  and  now  each  centering  way 
Was  thronged  with  carriages  to  farthest  view ; 

And  cavaliers,  with  more  or  less  display — 

Some  ambling  wisely,  others  prancing  through, 

Threaded  the  groups  or  dashed  across  the  plain, 

Until  at  Dian's  house  they  drew  the  loosened  rein. 


XXIX. 

Well !  such  a  crowd  this  island  never  saw, 
In  fact  the  island  was  one  glittering  guest, 

Each  name  was  welcome,  and  each  will  was  law ; 
Each  pleased  himself,  and  every  one  the  rest. 

Each  flattering  phrase  its  kindred  served  to  draw, 
Each  wit  was  brightest,  and  each  costume  best ; 

And  now  dispersed,  or  wandering  side  by  side, 

All  sought  the  various  joys  that  Dian's  wealth  supplied. 

82 


XXX. 

The  parks  were  ordered  with  so  kindly  taste, 
That  every  view  was  novel  to  enjoy  : 

Dry  mossy  benches  here  and  there  were  placed, 
Where  the  clipped  vine  revealed  the  clusters  coy, 

Or  endless  roses  made  a  beauteous  waste, 
In  sweet  retreats  to  tempt  that  lovely  boy, 

Who,  though  so  blind,  has  seen  enough  to  know 

What  perfumed  gardens  are,  to  furnish  for  his  bow. 


XXXI. 

On  the  blue  water  were  canoes  to  skim, 
And  deeper  sail  boats  through  the  wave  to  glide : 

Some  cruised  in  mirth  and  glanced  from  brim  to  brim, 
With  dripping  oars  or  canvas  wings  unplied ; 

Some  shooting  'neath  a  blossom  laden  limb, 
Under  its  fragrant  balcony  would  ride, 

While  on  the  shore  the  boaters  joined  the  dance, 

Or  quaffed  from  ice  filled  cups  the  foaming  wine  of  France. 


XXXII. 

Guitars  were  strung  and  hung  up  everywhere, 

For  almost  all  possessed  a  skillful  hand, 
To  touch  the  cords  for  some  sweet  singing  fair ; 

And  while  one  carolled,  passing  groups  would  stand 
To  listen  gaily  and  applaud  the  air, 

Or  join  their  voices  at  her  eyes  command, 
Till  frolic  spirit  made  the  chorus  wild, 
And  laughter  closed  the  song,  and  other  sports  beguiled. 

83 


XXXIII. 

Swings,  bowling  alleys,  billiards,  cards,  and  chess, 
And  stands  for  archery  and  guns  were  near  ; 

The  tents  and  groves  were  crowded  to  excess, 
With  all  amusements  to  the  idle  dear. 

The  day  was  vowed  to  utter  carelessness, 

And  could  one  day  have  banished  hope  and  fear, 

And  all  the  brood  which  makes  care  never  done, 

Such,  would  have  been  the  day,  and  this,  the  very  one. 


XXXIV. 

'Twas  afternoon,  and  o'er  the  water  gliding 
There  gleamed  afar  a  silver  shelled  canoe, 

And  one  bright  maid  the  little  vessel  guiding, 
Seemed  with  the  breeze  her  fancy  to  pursue  : 

Near,  on  the  shore,  the  Guardian  lone  abiding, 
Gazed  while  the  sprite-like  vessel  closer  drew, 

Till  at  his  feet  the  embarkation  stranded, 

And  smiling  Caroline,  upon  the  margin  landed. 


XXXV. 

"  You  sail  right  boldly,  you  who  fear  the  sea, 
I  never  dreamed  to  find  you  on  the  water." 

"  I'm  only  brave  on  little  floods,"  said  she, 

"  Naiad  I  am,  but  not  great  Neptune's  daughter ; 

There  is  no  soul  of  granite  built  in  me, 
Only  the  ordinary  brick  and  mortar, 

My  taste  is  for  the  graceful  and  serene, 

On  lake  and  not  on  ocean  is  my  role  and  scene." 

84 


XXXVI. 

Sweet,  splendid,  tropic  flowers,  and  graceful  palm, 
All  beauteous  ether,  and  bright  rippling  lake, 

Delicious  breezes  freighted  with  a  balm 
As  'twere  the  breath  of  nature  half  awake  ; 

A  silence  here,  a  solitude,  a  calm, 

While  far,  the  sounds  of  mirth  and  music  break — 

Such  was  the  scene  when  Carolina  spoke, 

And  from  her  lover's  lips  the  heart  impulsive  broke. 


XXXVII. 

"  Wheree'er  you  are,  whate'er  you  do,"  he  cried, 
"  You're  always  beautiful  like  nature's  own  ; 

Your  genius  shines  whenever  it  is  tried, 

And  yet  your  heart  would  triumph  over  none ; 

He  who  has  lived  one  short  hour  by  your  side, 
In  truth  will  never  after  live  alone, 

For  that  one  hour  in  memory's  dearest  place, 

Shall  fix  a  dwelling  form  that  nothing  can  efface. 


XXXVIII. 

"  Recall  not  all  my  blindness  of  the  past, 
Tell  not  the  years  of  my  abhorred  neglect, 

You  were  an  infant  when  I  saw  you  last, 

Though  now  with  every  charm  of  woman  decked  ; 

How  time  has  flown !  for  me  perhaps  too  fast, 
But  do  not  on  that  misery  reflect, 

Still  let  me  hope,  and  let  the  voice  of  truth, 

Lend  me,  if  that  need  be,  some  influence  of  youth. 

85 


XXXIX. 


"  I  love  you  deeply,  first  and  last  ideal  ; 

I  love  you  freshly,  first  and  last  of  passion  ; 
You  are  the  fairy  shape  at  last  made  real, 

Which  all  my  early  fancy  used  to  fashion, 
And  unto  which  my  later  years  are  feal  : 

Then  lift  those  eyes,  still  let  them  softly  flash  on, 
Open  those  lips  whose  breathing  is  my  life, 
Accept  my  love  and  say,  yes,  I  will  be  your  wife." 


XL. 


"  To  be  your  wife,  yes,  yes,  my  heart  would  speak, 
And  I,  speak  with  it,  yield  with  every  voice  ; 

But  praise  me  little,  you  have  seen  me  weak— 
Though,  could  my  qualities  confirm  your  choice. 

Your  praise  were  all  I  could  desire  or  seek, 
Your  conquest  all  in  which  I  would  rejoice  ; 

But  tell  me  one  thing  first,  and  tell  me  true, 

Do  you  not  know  perchance,  that  Dian  loves  you  too  ?" 


XLI. 


"  Diana  loves  me  not,  nor  do  I  her, 

At  least  sweet  Caroline,  this  way,  I  mean  ; 

Oh  don't  imagine,  or  for  grace  defer, 
Whatever  fears  between  us  intervene  ; 

Invent  no  check,  your  sisters  will  concur, 

I  have  no  thought  from  you  or  them  to  screen  ; 

Moreover,  they  have  hundreds  who  adore, 

So  be  thou  mine  alone,  and  leave  them  hundreds  more.' 

86 


XLII. 

"  Well,  I  believe — I  hope — that  this  is  true, 

I  thought — but  never  mind,  the  thought  is  gone, 

I  love  you,  for  no  man  can  rival  you, 
And  what  I  say  will  never  be  forsworn  ; 

Yet  oh  this  day,  may  fate  ne'er  make  me  rue, 
For  still  I  fear  and  still  my  heart  is  torn — 

But  here's  my  hand,  beloved,  and  here  am  I, 

Thine,  from  this  moment,  both,  with  true  fidelity." 


XLIII. 

"  Ah  !  sweet  consent  that  dissipates  my  fear, 
And  heralds  you  mine  own  before  the  world, 

Come  soon  the  time  when  all  the  world  can  hear, 
Though  now  your  sail  must  be  again  unfurled, 

And  we  must  part  till  this  wild  folk  is  clear  ; 
Adieu  !  thou  star  within  mine  orbit  whirled  ; 

Yet  not  adieu,  for  still  I  follow  you, 

And  where  my  steps  are  held,  my  loving  thoughts  pursue. 


XLIV, 

Now  the  ripe  sun  hung  in  the  garden  west, 

And  eve  advanced  on  lengthened  shadows  treading. 

The  Guardian,  tired  of  tumult,  sought  for  rest, 

And  houseward  through  an  orange  grove  was  threading 

When  Dian  met  him.     "  Stay,  thou  greatest  guest, 
Is  this  not  finer  than  Camacho's  wedding  ? 

Where  goest  thou  then,  thou  animating  spark, 

When  yonder  other  sun  abandons  our  dull  park  ? " 

87 


XLV. 


"  Hail !    Dian  full  of  grace,"  he  answered  straight, 
Are  you  not  Dian  with  a  softer  light  ? 

I  were  no  sun  if  I  should  set  too  late, 

And  you,  my  lady,  ought  to  rule  the  night." 

"  Let  sun  and  moon  be  emblems  of  our  state," 
She  said,  "  and  gather  stars  on  left  and  right, 

Yet  I  shine  not  if  I  must  shine  alone, 

I  have  no  light,  except  reflected  from  your  own." 


XLVI. 

"  I  go  to  see  the  theater,"  he  urged. 

Diana  answered,  "  Well,  I  come  from  there, 
Tis  all  in  order  master,  swept  and  purged, 

The  scenes  and  costumes  do  but  wait  for  wear, 
The  orchestra  has  been  policed  and  scourged, 

And  coming  conquest  seems  to  scent  the  air ; 
Therefore,  a  moment,  be  at  rest  and  free, 
You  must  be  tired  enough,  if  you  resemble  me." 


XLVI  I. 

"  Yes,  what  a  day !  Time  seemed  an  able  foe." 
"  Had  you  no  other  foe  perchance  than  time  ? " 

"  What  other  could  there  be,  or  could  I  know  ? " 
"  Well,  some  fair  maid,  or  woman  in  her  prime, 

Bearing  the  shafts  that  lay  the  strongest  low." 
"  Ah  !  that's  a  fear  that  reaches  the  sublime, 

But  on  the  score  of  love,  what  shall  I  say  ? 

E'en  he,  I  fancy,  cannot  conquer  in  a  day." 

88 


XLVIII. 

"  You  know  not,  there  must  come  a  day,  an  hour, 
When  culminates  the  growing  of  the  past : 

Then  the  unnoticed  germ  bursts  out  a  flower, 
And  that  thin  form  on  which  no  look  was  cast 

Now  fills  the  way  with  grace  and  odorous  power ; 
So  love,  long  springing,  may  expand  so  fast, 

That  in  one  day  'tis  suddenly  confessed, 

Too  soon,  too  late,  perhaps,  but  not  to  be  repressed. 


XLIX. 

"  Nothing  is  finer  than  your  skill  Diana, 
You  are  the  poet  whom  we  must  admire." 

"  Nay,  say  not  that,  for  I  am  no  phrase  planner, 
Nor  can  I  make  perfidious  terms  conspire  ; 

I  marshal  all  indeed  beneath  truth's  banner, 
And  sometimes  publish  more  than  I  desire ; 

So  do  not  think  my  talk  of  love  is  light, 

Nor  think  the  word  involves  a  rhymer's  futile  flight." 


"  True,"  said  the  Guardian,  "  'tis  a  holy  word, 

A  revelation  when  'tis  deeply  felt— 
A  voice  divine,  the  first  time  it  is  heard, 

To  which  all  kneel,  or  shall,  or  must  have  knelt ; 
Whereon  I've  wondered  how  you  live  unstirred, 

And  wherefore,  deep  beneath  your  jeweled  belt, 
The  magic  heat  has  never  yet  been  known 
Changing  that  temperate  cestus  to  a  torrid  zone. 

89 


LI. 


"  Stop  jesting  !  "  cried  Diana,  "  ask  no  more, 
Or  ask  not  if  I  have,  but  do  now,  feel — 

That  magic  heat  is  one  deep  burning  sore, 
Of  my  disease  the  stigma  and  the  seal, 

Unless,  indeed,  my  wound  be  balm  laid  o'er 
With  love  returned,  whose  only  balm  can  heal. 

I  never  knew  you  mock,  if  you  speak  so, 

You  must  be  trebly  blind,  or  else  a  heart  of  snow." 


LII. 


"  Forgive  me,  for  I  merit  not  that  style, 

This  day  has  been  divorced  from  graceful  thought, 

For  I  have  spent  it  on  our  friends  the  while, 
And  got  their  dullness  in  my  habit  caught ; 

I  started  with  my  fancy  like  the  Nile, 

But  now  you  see  'tis  something  overwrought, 

Twas  too  much  Egypt  for  that  poor  Undine, 

Though  you  appear  as  fresh  as  Egypt's  tireless  queen." 


LIII. 

"  If  we  are  then  to  be  compared  to  those 

And  I  pursue  your  simile  to  end, 
I'll  say  that  when  my  river  overflows, 

I  like  to  have  the  flood  on  me  transcend ; 
May  not  my  gardens  boast  a  vine  or  rose, 

Which  you  might  wish  to  foster  or  defend, 
And  one  wild  plant  that  springs,  must  I  conceal, 
Because  you  see  it  not,  or  scorn  its  mute  appeal?" 

90 


LIV. 


"  Be  Egypt,  focus  of  a  rich  effusion, 

But  don't  Diana,  be  the  Sphynx  beside, 

I  hear  you  truly,  but  to  no  conclusion, 

You  speak  in  riddles  somewhat  misapplied  ; 

I've  lived  enough  to  hate  the  least  illusion, 
Therefore  say  plainly,  or  your  words  fly  wide, 

What  must  I  foster  or  defend  ? — Speak  out ! 

Trust  to  my  well  known  love,nor  dread  a  phantom  doubt." 


LV. 


"  His  well  known  love  !  then  evening  shade  my  blush, 
How  warm  his  words  are,  what  a  kind  reply  ; 

Why,  friendship !  would  disdain  that  tepid  gush  ; 

Your  well  known  love  ?  Then  what  is  mine  ?— am  I  ? 

When  shame  and  anger  through  my  being  rush, 
And  yet  I  utter  this  imploring  cry. 

Look  at  that  moon,  I  bear  her  worthy  name, 

But  while  she  rises  there,  she  reddens  at  my  shame. 


LVI. 


"  But  I  am  born  beneath  a  zenith  sun, 
I  scorn  my  name,  I  hate  the  very  sound ; 

Yet  no  !  forgive  me,  look  not  so  undone, 
Can  I  believe  that  you  have  really  frowned 

To  hear  Diana  say  that  she  is  won  ? 

Or,  do  you  think  that  virtue  is  discrowned, 

Because  a  woman's  heart  her  fear  ignores, 

And  speaks  its  impulse  to  the  being  she  adores  ?" 

91 


LVII. 

It  is  no  shame,  if  even  I'm  repelled, 

Though  if  you  hate  me  I  have  but  to  die  ; 

Once  more,  I  love  you  !  naught  is  now  withheld, 
And  yet  once  more  I  dare  to  meet  your  eye : 

O  !  whence  that  gloom  upon  your  features  felled, 
Or  do  the  gathering  shades  of  night  there  lie  ; 

Speak !  speak !  and  quick,  or  at  your  feet  a  grave 

Will  open  for  Diana — 


LVII  I. 

"  Up  !  up  !  Diana,"  cried  the  Guardian  pale, 
"  Accuse  no  fault,  accuse  yours  least  of  all, 

I  love  you  dearly,  and  let  that  avail. 

What !  at  my  feet,  oh  rather  let  me  fall ; 

But  rise,  assert  your  pride  too  true  to  fail, 
And  hear  the  voices  that  forever  call, 

Whose  names  are  love,  and  art,  and  all  that's  free  : 

Open  your  fainting  eyes,  live  for  your  sisters — me. 


LIX. 

"Ah  !"  sighed  Diana  clinging  to  his  hand, 
"  You  bid  me  live,  oh,  be  forever  blessed, 

Where  are  the  accents  that  I  would  command, 
To  tell  you  how  you  put  my  heart  to  rest ! 

I  should  have  died  with  anguish  where  I  stand 
Had  my  wild  words  recoiled  upon  my  breast ; 

But  speak  again,  and  once  more  let  me  hear 

Tell  me  you  do  forgive,  you  love,  you  are  sincere." 

92 


LX, 


"  Of  course  I  do,  but  see,  they  light  the  trees, 
They  wait  for  us,  they  call  you  to  your  throne  ; 

I  hear  the  music  floating  on  the  breeze, 

Which  we  must  answer  since  it  is  our  own  ; 

The  moments  fly,  but  others  follow  these, 
And  in  the  ball-room  we  can  be  alone ; 

I've  much  to  tell  you,  much  of  love  and  care, 

And  I  will  meet  you  then,  what  colors  do  you  wear  ? " 


LXI. 

"  I  know  not,  dearest,  ask  Almai  the  nurse, 
But  I  shall  know  you,  never  fear  my  sight, 

Though  you  were  trebly  masked  and  my  sight  worse, 
I'd  know  you  by  your  gesture,  step  and  height ; 

But  fail  not,  for  your  absence  were  a  curse, 
Deeper  than  blindness  on  a  life  of  light." 

"  Oh  you  will  see  me,  wherefore  should  I  fail, 

But  now  think  all  on  art,  and  make  our  piece  prevail." 


LXII. 

The  moon-lit  night  advanced :  on  every  side 
The  lanterns  flashed,  and  at  their  signal  flame, 

The  splendent  theater  was  opened  wide  ; 
Thence  flowing,  light  and  melody  out  came, 

Enhancing  the  romance  of  even-tide, 

And  thither  cavalier,  and  maid,  and  dame, 

In  bright  costumes  and  smiling,  all  on  all, 

With  gay  confusion  pressed,  and  filled  the  glittering  hall. 

93 


LXIII. 

Meanwhile  Diana,  dressing  for  her  part, 
Called  for  her  sister  Anna  full  attired, 

And  said,  "  My  sister  let  me  claim  your  art, 

These  cheeks  are  pale,  and  need  to  be  more  fired  ; 

Your  pencil  is  the  image  of  love's  dart, 

Touch  me  with  rouge,  just  as  you  feel  inspired, 

I  have  a  conquest,  not  so  much  to  make, 

As  to  secure  this  night,  almost  for  honor's  sake." 


LXIV. 

"What  conquest  ?"  Anna  said,  with  half-toned  scorn, 
"  I  see  no  deer  here,  worthy  of  your  shaft." 

"  Oh,  yes!  "  said  Dian,  one  often  tined  horn, 
And  worthy  of  the  noblest  hunters  craft." 

"  But  honor  !  truly,  are  your  senses  gone  ? " 
"  Well  sharpest,  dearest,  do  not  think  me  daft, 

It  is  our  Guardian,  better  can  I  mime  ? 

I  love  him,  he  loves  me,  can  you  dissuade  or  blame  ? " 


LXV. 

"  Not  I,  Diana,  I  am  glad  'tis  so, 

You  know  you  owned  him  at  his  first  appearing, 
He  is  a  brilliant  if  an  ancient  beau, 

But  then  your  foliage  is  a  little  searing, 
So  you're  a  match  as  good  as  matches  go, 

And  if  your  beauty  needs  this  light  veneering, 
Why  his  " — "  Come  Miss  Irreverence  be  still, 
The  blush  is  here  itself,  and  scoffs  your  pencil's  skill." 

94 


LXVI. 

Then  Anna,  laughing,  flew  behind  the  scenes, 

But  Carolina  called  her  as  she  went : 
"  Stay  artist,  tell  us  what  this  hurry  means, 

And  whither  mischiefward  your  steps  are  bent, 
Or,  what  young  maiden  entering  her  teens, 

This  is  I  see,  so  light,  and  so  content  ? 
But  stop,  I  need  you,  need  your  hand  and  taste, 
I  must  be  rouged  to-night,  so  come  and  see  it  placed." 


LXVI  I. 

"  By  Iris  !"  Anne  exclaimed,  "  I  am  in  vein 
I've  just  released  Diana  from  my  claw, 

But  you — well  never  may  I  paint  again, 

Who  plastered  all  this  carmine  on  your  jaw? 

A  napkin,  quick !  to  make  that  color  wane, 
For  you're  the  fieriest  fright  I  ever  saw, 

Almai  is  mad,  if  that  can  be  her  style, 

Or  is  it  you,  my  dear,  whose  talent  is  so  vile  ? " 


LXVIII. 

"  I  tried  an  unaccustomed  art  to  please, 

I  have  a  lover  on  the  scene  to-night, 
And,  to  enhance  my  beauty  some  degrees, 

I've  made  me  what  you  deign  to  call  a  fright." 
"  Seigneur ! "  cried  Anna,  "  lovers  grow  on  trees, 

And  pray  what  fruit  are  you  inspired  to  bite— 
Who  is  your  lover  ?  Cupid  I  shall  burst, 
Our  name  is  going  fast,  well  let  me  know  the  worst  ? 

95 


LXIX. 

"  The  man  I  love  is  one  you  know  as  well." 

"  Oh  yes,  I  know  them  all,  and  would  know  less." 

'•'  But  he's  not  common,  guess,  or  shall  1  tell  ? " 
"  If  he's  uncommon  I  shall  never  guess." 

'•  Oh  yes,  guess  fifty  times,  but  there's  the  bell, 
And  I  must  go,  but  I  will  first  confess — 

It  is  our  Guardian — save  me  !  how  you  stare, 

Is  that  so  strange  ?  can  you — well  talk  to  me  elsewhere." 


LXX. 

One  flash  of  lace,  and  lawn,  and  satin  gemmed, 
And  Caroline  was  gone,  but  Anne  remained ; 

Now  her  first  flow  of  joyous  thought  was  stemmed, 
And  weighty  doubt  her  lively  step  restrained. 

And  now  she  feared,  and  now  her  fear  condemned, 
Now  all  confused,  now  every  thing  explained  ; 

Diana's,  Carolina's  lover — one  ? 

And  he ! — what  deep  mistake,  or  else  what  mischief  done. 


LXXI. 

If  this  is  treachery,  at  last  thought  Anne, 
To-night  shall  be  the  limit  of  its  scheming. 

So  she  advised  a  counteracting  plan, 

Whose  end  was  closer,  wilder  than  her  dreaming. 

But  what  has  reason  ever  done,  or  can, 

When  passion  heats,  and  errors  grow  to  teeming? 

It  shuns  one  danger,  but  a  new  creates, 

Or  seems  to  check  the  fate  it  still  accelerates. 

96 


LXXII. 

Thus  on  the  impulse  Anna  called  Almai : 

"  Almai,"  she  said,  "  You  know  that  at  our  ball, 

My  sisters  wear  blue  dominoes,  and  I, 
Only  our  roses  tell  us  each  from  all. 

Now,  for  a  timely  jest  I  mind  to  try, 
A  joyous  hour,  amusing  to  recall, 

I  wish  their  roses  changed.     Do  this  unknown, 

And  here  is  gold,  be  ever  silent  'tis  your  own." 


LXXII  I. 

In  this  way,  Anna  thought,  there  must  ensue, 
A  prompt  solution  of  one  kind  or  other. 

If  that  strange  man  be  heartless  or  untrue, 
He  shall  not  harm  a  daughter  of  my  mother  ; 

If  not,  they'll  learn  what  it  is  time  they  knew, 
That  one  at  least  must  her  illusion  smother. 

Ah !  here  is  sport  indeed,  and  am  I  right— 

Or  wrong — shall  I  preserve,  or  wreck  a  heart  to-night  ? 


LXXIV. 

Half  turning,  Anna  showed  so  pale  a  cheek, 
That  Almai  said  "  Have  you  not  on  a  mask  ? 

Nay,  then  this  jesting  is  no  common  freak, 
And  I  do  fear  to  venture  what  you  ask. 

Why  give  me  gold  ?     Why  must  I  never  speak  ? 
To  change  the  roses  is  an  easy  task, 

But  Dian  to  offend,  not  e'en  for  you, 

Although— nay  this  is  something  that  I  should  not  do, 

97 


LXXV. 

"  Are  you  so  keen  ?     Well  then  away  with  fiction, 

My  face  is  evidence  I'll  not  contest, 
I'll  give  you  truth,  but  give  me  your  conviction, 

Then  do  precisely  what  you  think  the  best ; 
I  am,  indeed,  in  such  a  real  affliction, 

That  my  design  by  no  means  is  a  jest. 
It  may  all  jests,  all  joys  annihilate, 
Our  Guardian  is  the  cause — yes,  be  surprised,  but  wait. 


LXXVI. 

"  My  sisters  are  enamored  both  of  him, 

I  know  not  why,  but  that,  I've  heard  them  say  ; 

I  know  not  either  how  his  wishes  trim, 

Nor  how  his  heart  turns  ;  be  that  as  it  may, 

This  is  not,  as  you  see,  a  vulgar  whim, 
Ah,  would  it  were  so  little  if  so  gay, 

For  life,  for  honor,  I  must  change  the  roses, 

And  truth  to-night  unfold,  from  what  the  lie  discloses. 


LXXVI  I. 

"  For  he's  been  told,  or  will  be  told  by  both, 
What  robes  they  wear,  and  so  he  will  respond ; 

Each  will  receive  the  other's  lover's  oath, 
Or  learn  indeed  that  one  has  been  too  fond. 

In  either  case  'twill  check  this  danger's  growth, 
Which  must  be  done,  no  matter  what  beyond. 

Now  you  possess  my  secret ;  are  you  mine, 

Or  rather  ours,  in  heart,  to  further  this  design  ? " 

98 


LXXVIII. 

"  Yes  !  "  cried  Almai,  with  vehement  expression, 
"  I'll  change  the  roses,  and  do  more  if  need  ; 

Diana  loves — and  who  contests  possession  ?  " 
Then  to  herself — "  Ha,  Caroline  indeed  ! 

But  later,  louder,  for  the  great  confession, 
Which  ruins  her  and  leaves  Diana  freed. 

Well  go  Miss  Anne,  just  now  the  band  began, 

Trust  me,  my  heart  is  in  it,  I'll  ensure  your  plan." 


LXXIX. 

"  Yes,"  hissed  the  negress  with  a  deepening  scowl, 
"  This  mingled  slave  at  last  must  have  her  fall, 

What  blood  is  hers,  if  even  mine  is  foul  ? 

Ah,  you  step  proudly  while  my  offspring  crawl ! 

You  dance  and  sing,  while  we  must  creep  and  howl ! 
I  spared  you  for  Diana,  and  that's  all, 

But  now  you  dare  to  eye  her  equal  love  ? 

Then  take  your  slavish  place,  and  let  them  shine  above. 


LXXX. 

Now  Carolina  raised  her  baton  high, 
And  now  the  awaited  overture  began,   v 

The  torch  of  art  that  lightened  from  her  eye, 
The  brand  of  genius,  kindled  every  man. 

She  made  one  thrill  in  every  bosom  fly, 

And  through  the  orchestra  the  torrent  ran  ; 

She  stood  before  them,  self-possessed  and  brave, 

And  urged  dramatic  fire  with  each  impelling  wave. 

99 


LXXXI. 

If  Carolina's  instinct  e'er  were  blind, 

Its  aim  was  noble,  and  its  effort  blessed, 
Her  teeming  heart  informed  her  willing  mind, 

And  beauties  grew  wherever  she  transgressed. 
The  orchestra  her  every  wish  divined, 

And  toned  and  colored  at  her  lightest  gest, 
While  each  progressive  phrase  enlarged  the  song, 
And  influence  of  success  impressed  the  listening  throng. 


LXXXII. 

At  last,  with  one  exultant  burst  of  sound, 

The  rapid  music  culminating  rose 
And  filled  the  roof,  and  shook  the  walls  around, 

Then  ceased,  and  silence  was  its  stunning  close- 
But  soon  the  clamor  came  of  tongues  unbound, 

Nature  was  moved  among  the  belles  and  beaux, 
And  forced  from  all,  without  restraint  or  pause, 
Round  upon  round  of  wild,  spontaneous  applause. 


LXXXIII. 

Electrified  by  this,  the  actors  stirred, 

And  every  nerve  was  stretched  to  passion's  key, 

The  very  least  who  had  to  say  a  word, 

Found  movement  and  emotion  newly  free ; 

But,  on  Diana  soon  all  eyes  concurred, 

And  voice  and  breath  were  held  to  hear  and  see, 

While  franchising  her  deep  impetuous  soul, 

She  breathed  the  tones  of  life  and  motive  through  her  role. 

IOO 


LXXXIV. 

Infatuated  by  the  scene,  the  light, 

The  music,  and  her  idolizing  love, 
Her  form  was  filled  with  spiritual  might, 

Her  glances  seemed  to  drain  the  stars  above ; 
Her  color  scorned  the  enamel's  red  and  white, 

While  love  and  doubt  upon  her  visage  strove  ; 
She  improvised  new  words  in  every  phrase, 
And  burned  their  meaning  in,  with  that  deep  sibyl  gaze. 


LXXXV. 

Her  dazzling  eyes,  her  alabaster  skin, 
With  floods  auroral  seemed  to  radiate. 

The  fiery  elements  that  coursed  within, 
Were  life,  and  genius  with  that  life  innate, 

Which  now  sprang  forth  no  transient  praise  to  win, 
But  all  their  thirst  of  utterance  to  sate  : 

Her  nature  grasped  its  own  imperious  need, 

Reckless  of  any  judge,  and  lost  to  every  heed. 


LXXXVI. 

On  one  sustained,  and  overwhelming  stream 

Of  unpremeditated  eloquence, 
Her  being  launched  to  liberty  supreme, 

And  gave  her  art  tumultuous  evidence : 
Rapt  with  the  fascination  of  her  theme 

And  furious  joy  of  lyric  excellence, 
She  whirled  her  pulse  through  every  heaving  breast 
And  made  her  triumph  live  a  memory's  bequest. 


101 


LXXXVII. 

If,  in  the  night  we  eye  the  glorious  field, 

Flooded  with  moonlight  and  the  starry  spray, 

The  many  splendors  that  we  see  revealed, 
Shine  with  a  fair,  but  not  a  earthly  ray  ; 

Pure  admiration  unto  them  we  yield, 

Nor  power  to  stir  a  deeper  chord  have  they : 

All  are  too  thin,  unreal,  and  too  far, 

To  seem  attached  to  us,  or  parts  of  what  we  are. 


LXXXVIII. 

But  now,  ignited  by  terrestrial  air, 

A  blazing  meteor  traverses  its  arc — 
That,  checks  the  breath — provokes  the  sudden  stare — 

At  once  the  less  effulgent  lights  are  dark, 
And  we  are  fixed  by  its  bewildering  glare. 

Such,  comes  to  us  a  messenger  of  mark, 
A  heavenly  fragment  plunging  in  our  sphere, 
Seeming  to  make  our  home  and  all  the  worlds  more  near. 


LXXXIX 

So,  like  a  meteor  on  a  sky  star  dense, 

Diana  shone  eclipsing  all  the  rest ; 
Deep  with  her  heart's  reality  intense, 

Wild  with  the  fever  of  life  unreprest, 
Undimmed  in  fire,  and  strong  without  suspense, 

She  filled  the  piece  with  unimagined  zest, 
And  gained  ovations  from  the  first  to  last, 

Till  acclamation  rose  to  one  tempestuous  blast. 
102 


xc. 


When  all  was  finished  and  the  curtain  fell, 

The  orchestra  commenced  a  dancing  measure  ; 

The  guests  arose  at  that  well  known  appel, 
Masking  their  faces  in  the  moment's  leisure. 

Then,  undistinguished,  dame  and  demoiselle, 

And  squire  and  sir,  made  mystery  their  pleasure : 

The  dance  was  formed,  and  midnight  mirth  let  slip, 

While  keen  or  joyous  jesting  flew  from  lip  to  lip. 


XCI. 


"  Black  mask,"  exclaimed  an  Angel  to  a  Demon, 
"  By  my  false  wings,  I'm  glad  to  see  you  here." 

"  And  by  my  horns  sweet  angel,  for  you  seem  one, 
My  own  delight  is  no  whit  less  sincere. 

But  wake  me  gently,  or  else  let  me  dream  on, 
For  that  blest  opera  still  haunts  mine  ear. 

Tell  me,  what  think  you  of  this  earthly  fiddling  ? 

Some  passion,  ha !  it  makes  an  '  In  Excelsis'  middling." 


XCII. 

"  Retro  Sathanas,  bad  taste,  bad  enquiry  ; 

Still,  if  you  want  an  amateur  opinion, 
I  thought  it  had  an  air  of  being  wiry, 

Its  school  was  certainly  the  Abyssinian. 
Some  of  the  fiddling  was  a  sparkle  fiery, 

But  all  of  it  was  Anti-Paganinian  : 
In  short,  my  nerves  have  slowly  been  dissected, 
Though  on  the  whole,  'twas  quite  as  good  as  I  expected." 

103 


XCIII. 

Then  came  two  dominoes.     Said  Grey  to  Brown, 
"  Not  bad,  that  cool  performance  of  Diana." 

"  Most  excellent,  my  faith,  it  brought  me  down, 
It  had  a  dash  of  more  reality  than  manner." 

"  Yes,  that  indeed,  to  make  the  virtues  frown, 
'Twas  not  in  fact  the  style  of  a  Susannah, 

But  she  is  handsome,  though  a  trifle  yellow, 

And  he's  an  odd  fish,  but  a  very  lucky  fellow." 


XCIV. 

Fair  Roman  Tullia  met  a  French  Hussar, 
And  seemed  to  start  with  admiration  bland. 

"Venus  !  "  she  cried,  "  How  beautiful  you  are, 
A  waist  like  that  no  classic  ever  spanned ; 

I  wish  you'd  show  yourself  to  dear  papa, 
And  ask  the  honor  of  his  daughter's  hand  : 

However,  no,  you  cannot  bear  contracting, 

But  tell  me  lively  youth,  what  thought  you  of  the  acting  ?' 


XCV. 

"  I  thank  you  madam,  I  am  scarcely  fit 

To  court  your  father,  or  your  father's  heiress : 

Heiress  indeed,  of  anything  but  wit, 

For  I  can  tell  you  that  the  dames  of  Paris, 

Talk  better  than  a  thrice  wed  Roman  chit — 

And  waists  !  why  that,  would  frighten  all  the  fairies, 

I  never  hope  to  figure  at  your  toilette : 

As  for  the  acting,  there  was  nothing  left  to  spoil  it." 

104 


XCVI. 

A  swart  Crusader  stumbled  on  a  Friar, 

"  What,  drunk  my  son  ?  you  bear  a  heavy  cross." 

"  Not  of  that  crime  accuse  me  holy  sire, 

The  weight  I  bear,  I  ne'er  should  feel  its  loss." 

"  Nay  son,  confess — we  shrive  not  the  denier." 
"  Bah  !  these  light  wines  urge  not  one  flagon  toss  ; 

I  never  knew  a  dryer  feast  or  sparer, 

Shrive  me  indeed,  then  shrive  a  camel  in  Sahara." 


XCVII. 

"  Well,  well,  my  son,  fast,  mortify  the  flesh  : 
I  looked  in  vain  for  sorrel  soup  this  day, 

The  lentils  I  obtained  were  not  too  fresh, 
And  I  have  hardly  wet  my  mortal  clay  ; 

But  each  indulgence  is  a  new  knit  mesh, 
Temptation's  net  involves  our  every  way. 

The  feast  was  poor,  nay,  devilish  poor  I  think, 

But  there  is  more  to  come,  and  haply  heavier  drink." 


XCVIII. 

Meanwhile,  behind  the  stage,  the  sisters  flew, 
Glowing  with  joy,  triumphant  with  success, 

Where'er  they  turned  they  met  with  praises  new, 
And  where  they  stayed  the  flatterers  came  to  press. 

"  What  skillful  acting,  and  the  scenes  how  true, 
How  fine  the  music,  and  the  words  no  less, 

Surely  this  is  the  home  of  every  art, 

And  you  are  muses  too,  who  charm  the  mind  and  heart." 

105 


XCIX. 

"  Our  end,"  Diana  said,  "  was  art,  the  first, 
And  then,  your  pleasure,  but  we  are  content, 

If  art  indeed  has  somewhat  been  aspersed, 
So  you  applaud  the  labor  we  have  spent." 

On  this  the  praises  were  again  rehearsed, 

Enlarged  with  what  politeness  might  invent — 

Then  all  withdrew  to  change  the  scenic  vesture, 

But  Carolina  stayed  the  Guardian  with  a  gesture. 


C. 


"  One  word,"  she  said,  "  for  just  your  mortal  ears — 
In  yonder  ball-room,  time  will  halt  for  me, 

Until  your  quickening  presence  reappears 
To  cause  the  moments  then  too  fast  to  flee. 

If  I  say,  Hope,  the  coming  hour  endears, 
'Tis  yours  to  make  my  Hope  my  Memory  ; 

I  wear  an  azure  hood,  and  silver  bow, 

And  wait  for  you  alone,  is  that  too  much  to  know  ? " 


CI. 


When  the  red  iron  worker  strikes  his  blow, 
A  thousand  little  souls  of  fire  are  born, 

They  burst  like  roses  and  revolving  go, 

Wreathing  the  rib  of  steel  whence  they  are  torn ; 

So,  when  the  heart  is  struck  in  passion's  glow, 
A  thousand  springing  loves  the  face  adorn, 

Each  feature  sparkles  with  its  own  delight, 

And  every  trait  betrays  the  animating  might. 

1 06 


CII. 


Thus,  soul  illumed,  the  smitten  Guardian's  face, 
At  her  sweet  emphasis  beamed  sudden  joy, 

The  blood  rushed  o'er  his  ample  forehead's  space, 
And  flushed  its  fairness  with  a  rich  alloy. 

"  Oh  mine,"  he  answered,  "  blest  the  time,  the  place 
Where  I  may  yet  the  voice  of  love  employ, 

And  when  the  splendor  of  those  eyes  on  me, 

May  kindle  burning  words  from  breathing  thoughts  of  thee. 


cm. 


With  all  her  winning  elegance  suffused, 

She  stood  and  bent  her  charming  look  on  him  : 

Such  was  the  pose  a  Phidias  might  have  used, 
To  mold  consent  in  every  trait  and  limb  ; 

One  fleeting  blush  her  quickening  heart  accused, 
Then  like  the  sparkle  on  the  wine  cup's  brim, 

Or  like  the  summer  cloud  of  tinted  spray, 

She  passed,  and  seemed  to  vanish  more  than  move  away 


CIV. 


Meanwhile,  Diana's  footsteps,  undelayed, 

Reached  the  boudoir  where  Almai  waiting  stood  ; 

She  held  the  vesture  for  the  masquerade, 
The  light  blue  silken  domino  and  hood  ; 

But,  on  the  floor  and  with  design  displayed, 
The  mirror  lay,  all  broken  glass  and  wood. 

"An  accident  Miss  Dian,"  Almai  said, 

«  Come  not  far  in,  I  pray— be  careful  where  you  tread. 

107 


cv. 


"  I  can  throw  on  your  domino,  'tis  here— 

Oh  you  are  lovely,  be  forever  so, 
And  happy  too,  my  high-born  lady  dear. 

I  draw  the  hood,  I  tie  the  satin  bow: 
This  purple  rose  I  pin  above  your  ear, 

Because,  beneath  the  rose,  in  tones  so  low, 
So  low  and  sweet,  love's  truest  vows  should  glide, 
And  those  are  thine  to-night,  thou  darling  Island's  Pride." 


CVI. 


Then  Almai  pinned  a  silver  rose.     Alas  ! 

Why  started  she  as  'twere  a  dagger  stroke  ? 
Why  turned  Diana  sudden  to  the  glass 

And  paled  to  see  it  lying  where  it  broke  ? 
"  Water !  "  she  said,  "  nay,  now  the  tremors  pass, 

Why,  what  have  I  ?     I  felt  my^eart  would  choke, 
The  thought  of  love — oh,  speak  not  of  it  yet ! 
There,  let  me  go  Almai — my  mask — my  eyes  are  wet." 


CVII. 

Now  Carolina  smiling,  tripping  light, 

Ran  to  the  room  where  all  her  dress  was  placed ; 
The  pale  blue  domino  lay  full  in  sight, 

But  no  white  rose  the  azure  satin  graced. 
"  Ah,  rose  !  "  cried  Caroline,  "  unquiet  sprite, 

Where  are  you  hidden  ?  be  not  so  shame-faced 
Because  you  signal  love — What,  roses  none  ? 
No  silver  rose,  how  strange ! — Well,  Dian  must  have  one. 

1 08 


CVIII. 

So  Caroline  threw  on  the  domino 

And  ran  all  fluttering  to  Dian's  door  ; 

"  A  silver  rose,  Diana,  and  I  go — 

Almai !  "     "  A  broken  mirror,  nothing  more, 

Here  is  a  rose  and  let  me  pin  it — so." 

"  Thanks  nurse — the  dearest  rose  I  ever  wore, 

Adieu  !  " — "  The  dearest  rose  !  you  say  that  well, 

It  will  prove  dear  to  you,  dearer  than  you  can  tell." 


CIX. 

"  Go  !  with  your  purple  rose  you  haughty  slave, 
To  rival  ne'er  your  sovereigns  again  ; 

Aye,  truly,  you  were  better  in  your  grave, 
Than  give  Diana  one  more  throb  of  pain : 

She  wept,  poor  child,  the  tear  that  I  could  save, 
By  hurling  on  you  his,  and  her  disdain  ; 

Your  beauty  cannot  help,  your  reign  is  o'er, 

You  must  not,  shall  not,  live  Diana's  equal  more." 


CX. 


Wrapped  in  a  domino  of  simple  serge, 

Anon  the  Guardian  mingled  with  the  throng ; 

Awhile  he  wandered  on  the  spangled  verge, 
And  watched  the  revel  as  it  swept  along ; 

But  still  the  music  sounded  like  a  dirge, 
To  which  his  heart  replied  a  funeral  song  : 

Unconquerable  sadness  seemed  to  lower, 

That  dimmed  the  pageant  light  and  palled  the  coming  hour. 

109 


CXI. 

"  Oh  mask,  I  know  you  "  sighed  a  fair  Circassian, 
"  You  are  Prometheus,  the  son  of  morn, 

One  waltz  with  you  were  one  celestial  passion, 
For  you're  a  being  worth  the  world  forsworn. 

Yonder  infatuated  drones  of  fashion 

Are  only  made  to  whet  the  stings  of  scorn  ; 

But  you  shall  peep  at  all  my  depths  of  feeling, 

And  gaze  to  set  your  philosophic  brain  a  reeling." 


CXII. 

"  Bright  daughter  of  Circassia,  not  so  fast, 

And  make  no  promise  which  you  may  regret ; 

I'm  but  a  son  of  night,  my  day  is  past, 
And  having  lived  it,  I  would  now  forget." 

"  Nay,  that's  a  mood  too  savage,  sir,  to  last, 
Come  wake  with  me  to  other  mornings  yet  : 

Hark  !  'tis  a  waltz,  forego  your  wicked  jest, 

And  whirl  me  through  it  with  your  own  musician's  zest." 


CXIII. 

"  Not  so,"  he  said,  "  my  dancing  days  have  waned," 
"Come  now,"she  laughed,"you  think  the  dance  degrades, 

Why  sage,  it  is  the  art  the  least  profaned, 
The  simplest,  quickest  of  expression's  aids  : 

The  graceful  dance  can  only  be  disdained 

When  the  last  rose  in  life's  bright  visage  fades." 

"  Well,  that's  my  case,  a  bud  of  hope  apart, 

But  think  not  graceful  dame  that  I  disdain  your  art. 

no 


CXIV. 

"  Nay,  if  there's  motion  of  one  perfect  form, 
Tis  the  progression  of  the  eddying  waltz, 

'Tis  nature's  movement  in  the  wave,  the  storm, 
And  nature's  movement  in  the  starry  vaults  ; 

Around  each  sun  its  whirling  planets  swarm, 
Which  each  a  crown  of  circling  moons  exalts, 

And  if,  '  forever  singing  as  they  shine ' — 

Then,  dancing  as  they  move,  may  also  be  divine. 


CXV. 

Thus  spoke  the  Guardian,  but  led  not  the  dame, 
For  now  emerging  from  the  slackening  dance, 

A  domino  of  blue  and  silver  came, 

Like  Dian  liveried  in  heaven's  expanse. 

Approaching  like  an  undulating  flame, 

She  darted  through  her  mask  a  lambent  glance, 

Wild  as  those  rays  exhaled  in  summer  night, 

Which  shot  o'er  copse  and  tarn,  bewitch  and  baffle  sight. 


CXV  I. 

She  drew  more  near,  nor  did  her  deep  look  swerve, 
Till  on  his  arm  her  satin  hands  she  crossed  ; 

The  touch  electric  thrilled  from  nerve  to  nerve, 
And  in  her  gaze  he  plunged  his  own  and  lost. 

The  form  breathed  love  in  every  fold  and  curve, 
And  on  the  hood  the  silver  rose  was  bossed. 

Tis  Caroline  he  thought,  these  hands  of  pearl, 

The  shape,  the  step,  betray  that  love  inspiring  girl. 


in 


CXVII. 

"  Fair,"  said  the  Guardian,  glowing  with  delight, 

"  You  are  the  image  of  a  lovely  moon, 
At  last  arisen  to  dissolve  my  night, 

An  anxious  night  illumined  none  too  soon." 
"  Ah !  could  my  look  put  every  shade  to  flight, 

I'd  ask  that  only  gift  as  life's  best  boon, 
But  do  you  need  me,  you,  so  much  above, 
And  do  you  love  me,  you,  whom  every  one  must  love  ?  " 


CXVIII. 

"  Need  you  ?  "  he  answered,  "  love  you  ?  yes  indeed, 
No  man  can  love  you,  cherish  you  like  me." 

"  And  is  your  heart  from  every  other  freed, 
My  own  alone,  as  mine  for  you  is  free  ? " 

"  Aye,  I  ne'er  loved,  no,  never  knew  the  need, 
Until  you  showed  me  what  that  need  can  be : 

Love  was  to  me  a  lifeless  half  scorned  name, 

Until  your  eyes  revealed  and  wrote  the  word  in  flame." 


CX1X. 

"  Celestial  joy  that  is,  for  me  to  hear, 

For  if  you  love  me,  from  this  happy  hour, 

My  life  is  full,  my  self-reproach  and  fear 
Are  gone  forever  with  their  icy  power. 

My  tears  could  come  indeed,  but  clearer,  freer, 
Beneficently  like  a  summer  shower  ; 

If  such  could  ever  bathe  my  cheek  of  care, 

The  rose  would  always  hide  the  deepest  furrow  there." 

I  12 


cxx. 

"  And  I  am  happy,  you  fulfill  my  hope, 

This  Lydian  night  can  never  find  its  mate  ; 

Indeed  no  more  is  night,  no  more  we  grope, 
Nor  flutter  in  the  darkened  webs  of  fate. 

All  luminous,  henceforward,  is  our  scope, 

And  bright  the  pleasures  that  our  steps  await, 

What  joy  and  pride  to  live  with  love  and  thee, 

My  Caroline — " 


CXXI. 

Eternal  instant !     Then  the  mask  upraised, 
Which  showed  Diana  and  her  piteous  eyes. 

With  anger  and  remorse  the  Guardian  gazed, 
Yet  gazed  and  struggled  not  to  recognize, 

Till  Dian's  face,  less  frightened  than  amazed, 
Began  to  change  as  fear  began  to  rise  : 

Then,  paled  her  lips,  her  breath  waned  at  each  gasp, 

While  on  her  shrinking  heart  conviction  fixed  its  grasp. 


CXXII. 

Her  eyes  grew  blinded  and  her  warm  cheek  froze 
Her  hands  convulsive  pressed  her  brow  and  face — 

Then,  slowly,  memory's  shattered  train  arose, 
Their  music,  shipwreck,  and  that  one  embrace, 

Those  hours  of  sickness,  all  their  joys  and  woes  : 
These  filled  her  mind  and  gave  each  other  place, 

Pallid  phantasmagoria  of  the  past, 

Vanished  forever  and  this  cruel  one  the  last. 


CXXIII. 

"  My  God ! "  she  whispered,  "  is  my  reason  true, 
This  anguish,  this  humiliation  mine  ?    v 

Guardian,  have  I  been  Caroline  to  you, 

Were  those  words  hers,  must  I  my  love  resign  ? 

But  no,  you  said  you  loved  me  when  you  knew 
'Twas  I  who  listened  yonder  by  the  vine, 

This  very  day.     Oh  !  why  that  marble  face, 

Have  I  indeed  lost  all,  love,  life,  in  such  disgrace  ? " 


CXXIV. 

The  Guardian  clasped  Diana's  rigid  arm, 
And  led  her  unresisting  steps  apart. 

"  Come  hither,"  said  he,  "quell  this  weak  alarm, 
And  listen  to  the  language  of  my  heart ; 

Step  through  this  window,  see  the  night  how  calm, 
We're  free  and  still  here,  yon  the  dancers  start ; 

Now  in  God's  name  Diana  be  resolved, 

I  will  not  bear  the  shame  of  resting  thus  involved. 


cxxv. 

"  I  love  you  like  a  sister,  and  no  more, 

Yet  great  that  love  is,  would  it  could  suffice, 

Or  would  I  ne'er  again  had  seen  the  shore, 
Where  I  insult  you  by  its  little  price  ; 

Take  it  or  not,  retain  it  or  restore, 

But  hear  at  once  what  I  will  not  say  twice, 

That  Caroline  and  I  have  pledged  to-day 

A  troth  that  both  my  honor  and  my  will  obey." 

114 


CXXVI. 

Diana  sank  with  one  deep  hollow  groan, 

Her  heart  no  longer  forced  her  blood  to  flow, 

Her  limbs,  her  senses,  were  no  more  her  own, 
And  all  her  spirit  yielded  to  the  blow. 

The  Guardian  sprang  with  bursting  tear  and  moan, 
But  not  for  him  was  office  to  bestow ; 

The  window's  drapery  was  thrust  apart, 

And  Altnai's  outspread  arms  caught  Dian  to  her  heart. 


CXXVI  I. 

"  Oh  sweet  Diana,  oh,  my  loved,  my  best," 

The  negress  sobbed,  convulsed  with  rage  and  grief. 

"  Art  thou  once  more  upon  this  faithful  breast, 
But  withered  like  it,  and  in  time  so  brief? 

Murdered  !  my  lamb,  and  can  my  spirit  rest, 
Till  full  revenge  has  given  thine  relief? 

No  !  not  though  I  lose  Heaven  and  thee  again  ! 

My  tears  for  thee  my  love,  shall  end  in  bloody  rain , 


CXXVI  1 1. 

But  now,  already  blank  or  staring  eyes, 

And  whispering  voices  spread  confusion  round, 

The  clustering  groups  with  question  and  surmise, 
Approached  the  balcony  with  masks  unbound  ; 

A  gloomy  pall  was  widening  o'er  the  skies, 
Great  drops  began  to  fall,  and  thunder  sound, 

So  quick  we  bore  Diana  to  the  room 

And  tried  to  bring  again  that  ever  exiled  bloom. 


CXXIX. 

Lost  that  attempt,  'twas  not  to  be  restored, 

But  Dian  opened  her  dark  eyes  again, 
And  launched  their  question  to  those  eyes  adored, 

That  softened  with  a  sympathetic  pain  ; 
But  she  read  not  the  answer  she  implored, 

Compassion's  flood,  but  not  deep  passion's  vein, 
Had  lightly  made  those  sterile  drops  run  o'er, 
Whose  flow  could  never  feed  the  flower  of  hope  once  more. 


cxxx. 

But  Almai  saw  the  half  returning  life, 
And  madly  anxious  to  sustain  the  tide, 

Burst  through  the  circle  with  impetuous  strife, 
And  plunging  to  Diana's  feet  she  cried  : 

"  Live !  Carolina  cannot  be  his  wife, 
Ignoble,  she  can  be  no  Saxon's  bride, 

Not  yours,  her  mother,  I  attest  the  grave, 

Hers,  was  like  her,  a  nameless  octoroon,  a  slave." 


CXXXI. 

Not  for  an  instant  was  this  disbelieved, 

For  e'en  already  gathering  in  the  air, 
Electric  horror  spread  and  bosoms  heaved, 

And  that  dumb  nerve  voice  whispering  beware, 
Made  any  terror  apt  to  be  received. 

Quick  shuddering  breezes  made  the  candles  flare, 
The  muttering  thunder  groaned  and  rolled  more  near, 
While  phantom  lightning  sheeted  all  the  northern  sphere. 

116 


CXXXII. 

If,  in  some  palace  of  a  buried  town, 

A  brilliant  company  had  been  entombed, 

And  fixed  there,  stark,  in  mail  and  robe  and  crown, 
Till  now  from  ash  and  scoria  exhumed  ; 

Then,  on  those  costumed  bones  could  we  look  down, 
And  see  their  attitudes  as  they  were  doomed, 

So,  filled  with  spectres  of  a  transfixed  world, 

Diana's  halls  appeared  when  Almai's  words  were  hurled. 


CXXXIII. 

The  beauteous  Carolina,  marble  pale, 

Lifted  a  brow  that  beamed  as  pure  as  dawn, 

But  spoke  not,  for  what  language  could  avail 
To  her  surprised  intensity  of  scorn  ; 

Yet,  'twas  indeed  a  moment  when  to  fail, 
Would  be  the  brightness  of  a  life-time  gone, 

So,  lightning  quick,  her  lover  grasped  her  hand, 

And  fixed  the  gaping  crowd  with  eyes  of  real  command. 


CXXXIV. 

The  Guardian  laughed,  a  long,  cold,  cutting  laugh, 
Like  drawing  keen  steel  from  its  curving  sheath  ; 

"  How,  friends, "  he  said,  "  the  wine  you  deigned  to  quaff, 
Has  turned  to  vinegar  behind  your  teeth  ? 

Look  at  this  lady,  she's  my  life's  own  half, 
It  is  not  I,  but  she,  who  weds  beneath : 

How  can  you  stand  there  petrified  that  wise, 

Behold  that  brow  of  snow,  if  you  have  ears,  have  eyes  ? 

117 


cxxxv. 

"  Nay,  wherefore  stand  I,  even  to  deny, 

What  fear  should  make  me  argue  or  explain  ? 

But  were  this  true,  and  I  could  not  reply, 
Still  Carolina  were  a  slave  in  vain  : 

I'd  buy  her,  free  her,  marry  her,  and  fly, 

Perhaps — for  why  should  I  deserve  disdain  ? 

What  makes  the  noblest  mate  for  any  man, 

If  beauty,  genius,  heart  cannot,  tell  me  what  can  ? " 


CXXXV  I. 

As  some  tall  palm,  one  fibre  still  unrent, 
Waves  upward  to  receive  the  final  blast, 

Diana  swaying  rose,  and  life  unpent, 

Burst  in  her  gestures  and  her  words  the  last : 

"  Take  her,"  she  said,  "  with  all  my  soul's  consent, 
That  noble  girl  is  guiltless  of  the  past, 

And  now,  through  me,  her  ill-starred  birth  is  known, 

Would  that  my  father's  crime  had  ruined  me  alone. 


CXXXVII. 

"  Oh  could  my  life-blood,  ebbing  while  I  speak, 
Pass  in  her  veins  and  expiate  that  crime, 

Then  would  my  heart  not  only  meet,  but  seek, 
This  stroke  of  fate  that  fells  me  in  my  prime. 

Forgive  me  Guardian  that  I  am  too  weak, 
Forgive  me  sister  while  there  yet  is  time, 

And  hear  my  will,  be  free  before  I  die, 

And  my  last  loving  wish,  be  happier  than  I." 

118 


CXXXVIII. 

A  scarlet  stream,  the  seal  of  that  last  will, 

Tinged  the  pale  lips  that  wreathed  in  love's  last  smile, 

Diana  sank :  the  broken  heart  was  still 
That  beat  so  wildly,  yet  so  free  of  guile. 

Thus  falls  a  lily,  springing  by  a  rill 

Which  feeds  her  beauty  for  a  little  while, 

But  grown  a  torrent,  ravaging  the  soil, 

Rends  down  her  lovely  form  a  pitiable  spoil. 


CXXXIX. 

One  gaze  of  inarticulate  despair, 

The  negress  fixed  upon  the  beauteous  corse, 
Then  like  a  tigress  in  her  very  lair, 

Her  velvet  young  ones  torn  from  their  life's  source, 
Her  red  eyes,  lurid  with  a  soulless  glare, 

Sprang  for  a  victim  with  demoniac  force : 
A  gleaming  blade  she  wrested  from  her  vest, 
And  aimed  her  murderous  blow  at  Carolina's  breast. 


CXL. 

Not  slower  than  her  desperate  intent, 

The  Guardian  leaped  to  intercept  the  aim, 

Quick  through  his  side  the  viewless  dagger  went, 
And  glided  to  the  destined  heart  that  came. 

Speechless  he  stood,  then  trembled,  drooped  and  bent, 
And  fell  at  Dian's  feet  a  lifeless  frame  : 

Without,  there  rang  a  bolt  with  thunderous  din, 

And  paralyzing  terror  stunned  the  hearts  within. 

119 


CXLI. 

Then  wild  confusion  swept  the  motley  throng, 
And  panic  rage  of  incoherent  fright ; 

Backward  some  fled,  and  others  urged  along, 
Were  hurled  out  shrieking  in  the  furious  night : 

Some  raised  the  victims,  and  a  few  more  strong 
Would  have  pursued  the  mad  assassin's  flight, 

But  she  fled  not,  with  frenzy  in  her  eye, 

She  stood,  prepared  again  to  slay,  prepared  to  die. 


CXLII. 

She  stood  incarnate  death,  inspiring  fear, 
Howling  last  curses  with  an  idiot  roar ; 

Then,  sudden  from  a  spacious  window  near, 
The  light  but  volumed  drapery  she  tore ; 

She  thrust  it  to  a  blazing  chandelier, 
And  hurled  the  ignited  mass  upon  the  floor : 

In  tinder  garments  robed,  the  bravest  shrank, 

Till  keen  and  rapid  flame  lit  tapestry  and  plank. 


CXLIII. 

Then  nought  but  safety  was  the  impelling  thought, 
Yet  vain  for  many  that  supreme  desire, 

The  flame,  storm  brandished,  waved  aloft  and  caught, 
And  wrapped  the  structure  in  a  robe  of  fire. 

There  those  three  lives  so  fated  to  consort, 
Were  merged  in  one,  in  that  one  funeral  pyre ; 

And  tempests  pass  and  mornings  break  with  light, 

But  still  yon  wreck  recalls  that  unforgotten  night. 

120 


FINALE. 


FINALE. 


/DIVING  the  tale  this  melancholy  close, 
^^^      A  sudden  agitation  seized  my  friend, 
He  bent  his  head,  and  then  abruptly  rose 

And  left  me,  why,  I  scarce  could  comprehend  ; 
Haply  he  figured  in  these  joys  and  woes, 

He  knew  these  sisters,  saw  their  tragic  end, 
Loved  one  perhaps.     Still  he  came  not  again, 
And  I  retired  to  dream  of  Dian  and  her  train. 


II. 


Next  day  I  saw  my  banker  in  an  hour, 

When  little  care  the  mighty  man  oppressed, 

He  offered  me  a  true  Cabana's  flower, 

Like  one  his  own  experienced  lips  caressed. 

Emboldened  by  the  sympathetic  power, 

Which  fills  the  man  who  smokes  another's  best, 

I  said,  "  Excuse  me,  but  I  see  you're  free, 

Pray  tell  me  who  is  X— I  mean  his  history  ? 

123 


III. 


"  Last  night  he  told  me  a  long  winded  tale, 
Yet  left  me  curious  to  hear  some  more, 

Not  that  the  story  did  itself  avail, 
At  least  enough  to  merit  an  encore, 

But  then,  to  hear  that  cheery  nightingale 
Rehearse  so  sadly  a  nocturnal  score, 

And  take  a  tragedy  so  much  to  heart, 

I  thought,  'twas  in  his  time,  he  figured  in  a  part. 


IV. 


"About  those  sisters,  and  that  burnt  up  barn  ?" 
"  Oh  yes,"  the  banker  said,  "  all  true,  but  old, 
Old  as  old  X  :  so  did  he  spin  that  yarn, 

And  yet  leave  out  a  thread  of  purest  gold  ? 
Well,  then  his  spinning  leaves  somewhat  to  darn, 

Though  you  have  guessed  exactly  the  untold, 
For  the  old  man  did  figure  at  that  burn- 
Nay,  through  the  whole  affair,  a  mixed  up,  bad  concern. 


V. 


"  It  was  a  beastly  luck  I  must  confess — 
I  mean  the  fire,  the  girl  they  say  was  dead, 

And  yet  he  tried  to  save  her  none  the  less  ; 
But,  the  other  fellow  whom  the  negress  sped, 

With  stiffened  fingers  clung  so  to  her  dress, 
So  fast  the  flame  on  floor  and  wainscot  spread, 

That  all  his  friends,  who  had  themselves  to  save, 

Could  barely  drag  him  from  the  fiery  crumbling  grave. 

124 


VI. 


"  He  loved  Diana  :  you  recall  the  name, 
She  was  the  eldest,  but  they  all  were  flirts, 

At  least,  I  knew  them  not,  'tis  all  the  same, 
For  at  the  mildest  they  were  those  experts 

Who  know,  and  therefore  love,  to  play  their  game : 
Yet  first-class  sirens,  give  them  their  deserts. 

And  though  a  strong  good  favored  craft  was  X, 

You  see  they  stranded  him  as  fast  as  frailer  wrecks. 


VII. 

"  Poor  man  !  he  may  be  eighty  years  this  day, 
Still,  by  that  fire  his  gentle  face  is  marred, 

And  still,  no  doubt  you  laugh  to  hear  me  say, 

By  that  same  quenchless  love  his  heart  is  scarred  ; 

Well,  they  had  genius  in  our  island  way, 
And  if  they  victimized,  their  fate  was  hard  : 

I  hear  you  leave  to-morrow. — Well,  adieu  ! 

Come  down  again  I  hope,  we'll  find  you  something  new." 


VIII. 

The  steamer  surged,  and  at  the  close  of  day 

The  long  blue  hills  were  all  the  eye  could  paint, 

Except,  where  mingling  with  the  golden  ray, 
Still  rose  the  ruin  with  its  sad  attaint. 

Then  dashed  the  bow  against  the  open  spray, 
And  hills  and  palms  and  ruins  grew  more  faint 

Till,  lapsing  from  the  grey  horizon's  swell, 

Land  disappeared  at  last,  and  night  on  ocean  fell. 

125 


IX. 


But  sudden,  at  the  coming  of  the  gloom, 

Out  burst  above,  the  cloudless  starry  throng ; 

The  sky  was  fretted  with  their  silver  bloom, 
The  sea  sheened  under  as  it  rolled  along : 

The  sunbeams  laid  in  night's  ethereal  tomb 
Seemed  raised  in  spirits,  numerous  and  strong, 

While  far  and  farther  from  unearthly  space, 

They  flitted  forth  and  filled  their  constellated  place. 


X. 


Soon,  by  a  chance,  my  eyes  were  fixed  on  three — 

A  lovely  cluster,  outlined  as  triune : 
One  glittered  like  an  orb  of  frozen  sea, 

One  shimmered  like  the  rainbow  of  a  June, 
The  third  shone  ruby,  yet  inconstantly, 

Now  Tyrian  deep,  now  blushing,  hueless  soon  ; 
Yet  all  in  equal  splendor  joined  their  rays 
And  one  seemed  peerless  till  another  met  the  gaze. 


XI. 


These  are  the  sisters,  said  I  in  my  thought, 

That  glittering  one  is  Anne,  bright,  cold  as  ice, 

Like  crystal  with  some  warmth  of  color  fraught, 
And  formed  in  grace  though  chiseled  over  nice ; 

A  reasoner  she,  but  less  inspired  than  taught, 
A  brilliant  wit,  but  proud  beyond  advice, 

A  philosophic  mind,  a  heart  at  zero, 

Without  one  spark  to  make  a  heroine  or  hero. 

126 


XII. 


The  rainbow  star — 'tis  Carolina  sure, 
Thereby  the  soul  of  genius  is  portrayed, 

For,  as  the  light,  blent  through  a  prism  pure, 
Breaks  into  every  heavenly  hue  and  shade — 

So,  nature  seems  refracted  lovelier,  newer, 
When  in  the  artist's  heart,  she's  first,  unmade, 

Then,  in  his  forms,  his  music,  or  his  lines 

Revives  in  deeper  truth,  with  warmer  beauty  shines. 


XIII. 

The  last  is  deep  love,  call  it  too,  the  heart, 

But  that  wild  heart  which  neither  thinks  nor  dreams, 

Which  only  feels,  and,  feeling  without  art 
Hides  no  emotion  by  elaborate  schemes. 

The  fluctuating  blush,  the  sigh,  the  start, 
The  instant  pulse  that  varies  to  extremes 

These  are  its  signals  not  to  be  withheld, 

The  ruby  ray  will  shine  e'en  dim,  yet  never  quelled. 


XIV. 

'Tis  Dian's  star,  and  is  the  light  despised  ? 

Nay,  let  the  three  one  evening  shine  alone- 
Then  ask  the  wanderer  which  is  highest  prized ! 

If  all  be  bright,  the  choosing  is  his  own, 
And  fancy's  star  will  be  the  recognized. 

But  when  the  rising  storm  obscures  the  zone, 
What  last  light  gleams  athwart  the  clouds  o'erspread  ? 
'Tis  still  the  ruby  ray  when  all  the  rest  are  fled. 

127 


XV. 


Thus,  as  I  mused,  a  cloud  indeed  arose 

And  soon  eclipsed  my  stars  behind  its  loom, 

And  this,  I  murmured  ever  is  the  close — 
All  ultimately  vanishes  in  gloom  ; 

But  then  the  sea  begat  those  actual  woes 
Which,  as  we  know,  give  no  ideal,  room : 

I  sought  my  berth,  forgot  the  tropic  strand, 

And  prayed  devoutly  for  my  blessed  native  land. 


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